


Predation

by hannithecannihasabigfanny



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Bisexuality, Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Gay, Gore, Headaches & Migraines, It's going to hurt just as much as the show does, Lots of Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death, More angst, Most Angst, Multi, Normal Will Graham Hallucination Stuff, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Hannibal, Public Masturbation, Someone Help Will Graham, Stalking, Unhealthy Relationships, more death coming soon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 20:10:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 31,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4193322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannithecannihasabigfanny/pseuds/hannithecannihasabigfanny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will Graham has a stalker, or perhaps even stalkers.  He's not quite sure.  All he knows is that he's overworked, frazzled, and Jack has heard word that he's been stalked.  What will become of our dear William?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Probable Stalker

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone. This is my first story posted on AO3, and it may or may not be a pretty long one. I won't spoil it.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy it.

Will Graham’s worn brown shoes timidly clicked against the floor as he made his way to Jack’s office for the fifth time that week, his eyes lackadaisical and guarded. His shoulders were raised high in an exhausted slouch, and his gait made him appear intoxicated, however he was simply just spent – emotionally and physically spent. As he loped past the lab, waving idly to Beverly, Jimmy, and Brian, he glanced around, numbly attempting to focus on the task at hand. 

“Will..?” Jack managed as the smaller man came into is range of vision. His mouth curled slightly downward into itself, his lips pursed tightly against each other, as if they were fighting for dominance. His eyebrows furrowed as if to make his already-harsh features even more prominent. Will was scarcely aware of Jack’s concern, as he sat shakily in the chair nearest to him, his head wobbling as if blown by slight wind.

“Will?” Jack repeated, his concern leaking into his voice. Will’s eyes met Jack’s for a moment and he offered a frazzled smile in response. It was intended to comfort Jack and assure him that he was fine, but Will did not look very fine to him. 

“Hello, Jack. Sorry for my appearance. I was in a hurry to get here,” Will managed, running a wan hand through his unruly curls. He hadn’t even attempted to clean up this morning, but could he be blamed? He was, without a doubt, one of the most overworked people here. He didn’t often complain, but he had been mulling over doing so in his mind, for he felt a bit walked on. Between his own insomnia and Jack’s insane expectations, he was spread quite thinly. It was as if he had found himself in proximity to the event horizon of a black hole, however the pull was far more drawn-out. 

“I can see. Will, I’ve been thinking about it, and I think that you should be a little more careful. There appears to be…someone following you,” Jack told him with trepidation. He glanced up to meet Will’s gaze, but, as he anticipated, Will’s eyes were focused on the ground, and he appeared to be processing what Jack had just informed him of.

“I know,” Will replied curtly. The pause that followed was quite tense, as if Jack wasn’t sure of how to respond. Will’s state of disrepair was unsettling him, and he could tell from the quiet muttering in the lab that it unsettled Beverly, Jimmy, and Brian as well. 

“Do you know who it is? Hannibal said he had noticed it when he was with you the past few weeks,” Jack asked tentatively as he attempted to break the heavy silence. Will blinked his dry, throbbing eyes, and gazed up at the ceiling in thought. His mouth was open ever so slightly, making him appear completely absent for a moment. Jack was quite sure that the other man would fall asleep in front of him, but just as he was about to rouse Will, he was surprised to hear him speak.  
“I’m not quite sure, but I have been wary of it. They haven’t revealed themselves,” Will’s reply was choked out, as if the very act of speaking was strangling him. He was too spent to continue speaking with Jack. 

Will’s exhaustion began to overtake him as if it were a hand at his throat. He felt himself beginning to drown in the persistently nagging need for sleep. It tugged at his mind, his arms, his legs, his stomach, and god, did his head ache. He felt the ache pulsate through his entire brain with each heartbeat as if his blood was composed of nails. He massaged his temples to ease the pain, but to no avail; he required rest desperately.

“Is there any other reason that you need me here? I had plans later,” he whimpered as a particularly potent shot of pain throbbed through his head. Sweat beaded on his brow from the effort it took to not just succumb to his need for sleep.

Jack did have other purposes, but he was aware that Will was in no condition to give him advice on a case at the moment. Will’s conspicuous struggle against his exhaustion was quite sickening to watch. Jack’s guilt was quite heavy at the bottom of his stomach.

“No. Would you like me to have someone drive you home? You’re not looking too good, Will. Someone else can drive your car to your house for you, if you’d like,” Jack offered, his genuine concern for Will softening the usual sternness of his voice.

“I suppose that would be best,” Will responded simply, biting his lower lip in hopes that it would distract him from his aching head. It felt as if someone was hacking open his skull with a crude saw, splattering his grey matter all over his shoes.

Jack excused himself and rushed off to fetch someone to care for Will. His mind immediately flitted to calling Doctor Lecter, but he suspected he would be preoccupied with something else, so he decided that the best option would be asking someone who would already be around. 

His back ached from the long hours of hunching over evidence that he had to examine. He rolled his shoulders, stretching, before walking into the lab and turning to Beverly.

“Bev, is there any way possible that you can drive Will home? He is looking quite unwell. I can drive his car back and follow you. He’s just…looking too tired to do anything right now.”

“Finally, Jack. You finally care about his well-being. He’s looked a wreck all week! You’re really overworking him,” Beverly lectured before answering his request, “and of course I’ll drive him home. I was going to do it anyway. I don’t even know how he made it here.”

Jack sighed, rolling his eyes as embarrassment washed over him, the heat settling in his cheeks. He sighed as if to expel the guilt that weighed so heavily in his stomach, – to no avail, of course – and rubbed the back of his neck. 

“I get it, I get it. We should just go before he dozes off,” he grunted, his agitation at his own selfishness quite obvious. As he turned to return to Will, unbeknownst to him, Beverly rebelliously stuck her tongue out at him, prompting a quiet chuckle from Brian and Jimmy. She smirked and followed Jack, the plastic bottom of her heels clacking loudly against the harsh linoleum. He had to stifle a wince, for each noise reverberated in his head in the form of his own pulsating headache. They were all being worked to the bone. 

Jack and Beverly opened the door to Jack’s office to find Will still staring at the ceiling, his eyes clouded with thought. Jack gently placed a hand on Will’s shoulder to rouse the other from his dazed state, however it appeared that Will hadn’t noticed. He continued to dazedly observe the ceiling.

“It takes a stalker to know a stalker,” Will stated simply. Jack’s expression was screwed in his befuddlement. Beverly observed the conversation from behind, as if she feared disturbing Will’s ingenious thought process.

“What are you implying, Will?” Jack pressed, his eyes searching Will’s desperately, as if he could pry the answer from him prematurely. Of course, upon seeing this, Will graced him with a sleepy smile.

“What do you think, Jack? Who noticed my stalker besides me, the one who would naturally be quite spooked by the feeling of being watched?” Will questioned, his voice almost patronizing. He wanted Jack to form his own conjecture for once. He was quite fed up with spoon-feeding the answers to him as if he were a man-child.

Jack pondered for a moment before realizing what Will was implying. He sighed in frustration at Will’s insistence to accuse Doctor Lecter for claiming something that was simply done for Will’s well-being.  
“Will, I really don’t think that. I don’t even think that you do. You’re exhausted, and we need to get you home soon. Will you come with us? We’re going to take you home now.”

Will nodded sleepily, but his mind was screaming for him to voice his thoughts. In his heart, he truly knew that Doctor Lecter was snooping around, always knowing his whereabouts. He wasn’t accusing Hannibal because he was feeling under the weather. Despite Jack’s words, Beverly was beginning to have her own doubts as well. Lecter sure did follow him everywhere he went…

Beverly dismissed her thoughts as she helped Will stand from his chair and walked him outside. She grinned at his drawn-out yawn and patted his back, as if hoping to help him maintain his consciousness until she got him home.

“Alright, Will. I’m going to drive you. Do you want to sit with me in the front, or lie down in the back?” Bev questioned, observing as Will stretched and reached for the front door on the passenger’s side.  
“You know me, Bev. I like watching trees fly by in front of me. Besides, I can see more stray dogs up here,” Will joked, blinking his eyes. Beverly had been to his house on a few other occasions. She seemed to always been Jack’s second choice in taking Will home. As the rumble of the engine engulfed them, and she began driving out of the wet gravel parking lot, she realized she didn’t mind taking Will home. Will was never rude to her in any way.

“Heh. You know, it’s my turn to take the dog home this time. I call dibs,” Beverly giggled, an amused smirk playing on her face. Her eyes sparkled. She truly was charismatic. She didn’t pretend.

“Will you name the dog Dibs? I think it would be a nice name,” Will remarked as his phone buzzed in his pocket. He frowned at the shrill ring that pierced his ears, igniting the already-unbearable blaze of his headache. It was less of a headache and more of a headagony at that point.

He fiddled with it for a moment, the buttons seeming to escape him in his exhausted state, before he finally answered. Although, he felt somewhat uneasy, for the caller ID indicated that he was receiving a call from Hannibal.

“Will?” Hannibal’s husky voice sounded over the phone. Will nearly winced; it was skull-shatteringly loud in his sensitive ears.

Will’s lower jaw quivered slightly with the anguish, which was a shooting dagger that sliced through the center of his skull to the nape of his neck. He rubbed at the spasming muscles with his free hand as he responded to his therapist.

“Yes, Doctor Lecter. What do you need?” Will inquired, his resolve to not hang up on the other man wavering. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to speak with Hannibal; it was that the throbbing ache in his head and shoulders was quite potent, and his voice seemed so much louder than Beverly’s.

“I..,” he wavered for a moment, but gracefully saved himself, “was just calling to remind you of our standing appointment today.” Not suspicious, Will supposed, but the pause surely was. 

“Right. You underestimate my memory. I’ll be there,” Will responded, gently taking his chin in his free hand and twisting it from side to side. His relief came in satisfying pops. His neck sounded like popcorn kernels put in a microwave.

Beverly winced at the crackle of Will’s neck. She reminded herself to recommend Will a decent chiropractor when his conversation with Hannibal was over. She knew that Hannibal wouldn’t take kindly to someone else driving Will home. For some reason, he felt as if it were his birthright to take Will where he needed to go. 

“Good, good. I’m looking forward to your visit, Will,” Will could hear his infectious smirk over the phone. His stomach felt unbearably warm.

“Ah, yes. I’ll see you then, Doctor Lecter.”

“Please, call me Hannibal,” he responded, and with that, the phone beeped to signify the end of a call. Will suppressed a shudder and then turned to Beverly. She was so readable. It was comforting to be with someone that was reliable and genuine for once.

“Jeez, talk about a weirdo. As if you would forget the appointment you’ve had with him for so long! Anyway, you really need to go to a chiro, Will,” she spoke, her words energetic and cordial. How could one not enjoy a conversation with Beverly?

Will sighed, musing on the topic of Hannibal. He was a quite intriguing man, and he enjoyed the chase that always seemed to ensue when he was in his office, however he at times grew tired of being on his toes. Hannibal was always dropping hints that were so subtle that the average listener wouldn’t be able to detect. One slip up, and he’d missed something important. Hannibal was always deliberately using words with double meanings.

“Chiros are quacks,” Will offered simply.

“Didn’t your neck feel better after you popped it? It would feel even better if a professional did it. Come on, I promise it’ll help. Just give it a chance! You might even sleep better!” Beverly chatted, a grin on her face. Will felt a smile creeping its way across his features as well; Beverly simply emanated positivity. Despite his headache, he was happy. It was just the mindless conversation he needed at the moment.

“Okay, you win. I’ll give it a try sometime,” he chuckled, watching the smooth curves of the road unfold before him, the trees above kissing their car with leaves. It was almost beautiful. If only Will was awake enough to appreciate it. 

“But seriously, what’s Hannibal’s problem? Maybe you’re right and he is stalking you. Freaking weirdo,” Beverly joked, enjoying the view of the road as well. Will mused that he wouldn’t mind a road trip with her. She was always more into conversation than he was, but she didn’t expect him to offer long-winded responses as she did. 

“He acts obsessed with me. Whether he is or not, I don’t know, but he does,” Will shrugged, not sure of what to say. He didn’t discuss his feelings about Hannibal too often with others, but he wasn’t disclosing the whole of it to Beverly anyway, so he didn’t feel too exposed or threatened. She wouldn’t get any responses that he was uncomfortable with giving. 

Beverly chuckled at Will’s response and nodded. She had taken quite an interest in Will and Hannibal’s peculiar relationship for its quirks. Will seemed to be reliant on him in his own way, but Hannibal was always standing by Will protectively as if he was his wife or something. 

This brought the image of Will in a dress to mind. Beverly smirked and attempted to continue on with the conversation.

“Yeah, I noticed that too. Do you mind?” Beverly knew she was prying a little too much, but she was also aware that Will wasn’t going to give a straightforward answer if he wasn’t compelled to. Will kept secrets well.

Will paused, considering the question. He wasn’t quite sure if he minded. The fantasies of Hannibal composed most of the pleasant dreams he had, but on the other hand, Hannibal was a bit clingy at times, even though they weren’t together or anything. Will wasn’t even quite sure of how much he really liked Hannibal.

“I don’t know,” he managed, hoping the answer was enough for Bev. To Will’s relief, she let the subject drop.

“Well, that’s okay. I mean, you probably don’t think of it often. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Are you okay? You look sick,” Beverly spoke softly, for she was quite aware of Will’s ailment. She displayed concern, but she wasn’t overbearing. Perhaps he should be in the company of Bev more often. He found himself questioning the quality of his and Hannibal’s relationship when he was in the company of more healthy friends. 

Will lightly rested his head upon the cool, refreshing glass of the window beside him. He closed his eyes for a moment, relishing in the sweet temporary reprieve from his throbbing head. He stretched his legs, positioning himself for more comfort, and sighed.

“I’ll be alright. Doctor Lecter was simply a little louder than my noise threshold can bear at this moment. He wasn’t aware, so I can’t hold it against him,” Will’s reply was a low rumble, his voice still sounding hoarse, yet much clearer than it had sounded all morning. Bev laughed quietly as she noticed the relief that Will was taking from the coldness of the window.

“Okay. Just let me know if you need something. I’m always carrying some sort of pain medication, and I’d be happy to oblige,” Bev assured him. Perhaps she truly was good company. Kind, courteous, willing to carry on conversations when he wasn’t feeling comfortable, and she carried pain meds. She was indeed the perfect friend.

Will discreetly nuzzled the window, enjoying its coolness and the view of the trees rushing by. It was indeed beautiful. However, what would be more beautiful to him was a nice nap. He didn’t get enough of those.

“Maybe we should all petition for Jack to give us a few days off here and there, eh? It says quite a bit about his rigorous working schedule that we have to carry pain meds around,” Bev joked as they turned into Will’s driveway. Will sat up, massaging his eyes for a moment, before getting out of the car.

“Thank you, Beverly. I appreciate it.”

“I know you do, Will. That’s why I’m happy to do it. We should hang sometime. Maybe I can steal you from Hannibal for a while,” she giggled over the engine roar. Will smirked and waved his goodbye to her before departing into his house.

He immediately flopped on his bed, turned on his side, and slept despite the radiating pain from his head and shoulders. Little did he know, though, he wasn’t quite alone. Outside, maroon eyes peeked into his room, lurking like a monster in the darkness.

“How dare she?” his voice was a guttural growl.

Indeed, how dare she?


	2. Flustered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal finds himself flustered after seeing Will, and runs off to relieve himself. Emotional chaos ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will be far more explicit than the last. I've changed the rating of this story because I realized while writing this chapter that there will naturally be more graphic sexual and violent scenes. I hope that this doesn't put off too many people, but I just felt that it would cause more tension to have these scenes in. Leave a comment if you have any feedback that you'd like to share. Thank you very much for reading! You're all awesome!
> 
> P.S. I suck at any sort of smut. I'm sorry.

Hannibal paced outside behind Will’s house, his body feverish with rage. He had no real reason to kill Bev aside from the fact that she implied she was going to spend time with his precious Will. His, not hers. He was HIS. Will should have told him on the phone that he was with someone else. He clenched his fists, livid. His breaths were forced, his chest heaving with effort as he attempted to restrain himself. He couldn’t be impulsive - Beverly's car was still in sight and Jack was now riding with her. How unfortunate.

Why hadn’t they called him? He would have been there in a heartbeat. In fact, he knew Will would have had to return from Jack’s office early, for he had deliberately kept Will longer after his session, inconspicuously planting the seeds of anxiety in him so that he would stay awake again and he would require more rest. Of course, he didn’t intend to harm his dear Will, but he had yearned to spend more time with him. Will had avoided him for most of the week. It had been difficult to compose himself as he watched him distance himself from the only person who gave him comfort and closure.

In fact, no one else could possibly give him comfort and closure. It was impossible. Hannibal had eradicated all of those pesky pests that lurked in Will’s life. He couldn’t allow another one to get in. He had to sabotage it somehow. Perhaps he would just butt in first..

He mused, debating how he could completely win Will over before Beverly so cunningly swiped him out of his grasp. He did admit that her relationship with him at the moment was predominantly platonic, and he tried to use that fact to reason with his bloodlust, however it was to no avail.

Eventually, he would have to kill her and eat her. She had been quite discourteous to him in her conversation with Will. Granted, he knew he wasn’t expected to be eavesdropping, but her comment infuriated him. Perhaps he would kill as the Ripper once again tonight. It may distract both Beverly and Will for a while, and it may very well bring him closer to Will. Hannibal glanced about, noting that Beverly’s car was no longer in sight, before returning his gaze to Will. 

He felt his stomach twinge with want, heat emanating from his groin as he watched Will sleep. If only he could just hide enough to touch himself..

He was practically salivating, his maroon eyes ghosting over the exposed skin of Will’s stomach, and over his slightly agape mouth, which was slightly glazed over with drool. Hannibal imprinted the image into his mind, resisting the urge to grind against something, anything. He turned away, running a hand through his hair as if to compose himself, but he continued to be drawn to that image. His legs quivered and his heart thudded in his ears. He felt terribly uncomfortable. 

He raced off to his car, which he had parked quite a ways away so that he could be more incognito. The brief run through the country seethed through his veins in the form of adrenaline. He felt himself submit to the feeling of being a ruthless predator among prey. God, if only he could hunt. Alas, he had other feelings to attend to. He felt his groin stir as he approached his car. 

Cursing himself, he climbed into the car, glancing around to ensure that there was no one who could see him. He sighed in relief to find that he was alone. He wasn’t the type who enjoyed public embarrassment. 

Swallowing hard, he glanced down at his awful erection. He grimaced and sunk further into the seat, ashamed to being doing this without the privacy of his own home. However, that shame was forgotten as his crotch lightly skimmed the wheel mount, the slight friction igniting his loins and eliciting a low grunt of pleasure. He moved his hand to rub himself over his beige trousers.

His mind flitted to the image of Will sleeping. Dismissing the guilt, he unzipped his trousers and pulled aside his boxers so that his cock sprung free. He sighed in relief, his eyes glazed over with pleasure. The residual rage from earlier and his arousal from watching Will became one seething, squirming emotion in the pit of his stomach. 

And GOD did it make his life more perplexing.

He started touching his member with his delicate, nimble fingers, the environment around him slowly fading from his perception as he focused on the tingling sensation in his groin. His lips parted to let slip a husky groan of ecstasy. 

He imagined Will’s supple lips sloppily wrapping themselves around him, and Will moaning his name as the tip of his cock hit the back of his throat, his eyes lolling back in his head. Hannibal bit back another groan as he pinched the tip between his fingers to tease himself. His eyes squeezed shut as a particularly strong wave of pleasure washed over him, sweeping him under as it threatened to drown him. He began to stroke himself lightly.

Hannibal clenched the seat with his free hand, his knuckles paling from lack of blood flowing to them. His breath was unsteady and came in pleasured gasps as he felt his penis throbbing in his hand. He tried to imagine instead that his hand was tangled in Will’s chocolatey locks, pulling the other man harder onto his member. His imagination continued to roam – Will, distressed and nearly asphyxiated as Hannibal continued to thrust into his throat. Will, crying out onto Hannibal’s pulsating cock as he was spanked mercilessly. Will pleading for his opening to be filled. Will begging for mercy.

Hannibal squirmed, unconsciously thrusting into his hand now. His face was flushed with embarrassment, arousal, and rage, one of the things which compelled him to do something. 

He scratched at his cock, expressing his rage at Will having other relationships. Hissing in agony and bliss, he continued to thrust into his hand, his fingernails scraping against his skin every time. God, it hurt in the most delicious way possible. He felt himself ripping open the seat cushion beneath him, but he was apathetic towards anything but his carnal desire at this point. He wanted release.

And he was coming close. Oh so close. Almost too close for his comfort. Another groan escaped from his mouth, and he was thrusting into his hand with reckless abandon. He imagined his hips met Will’s pale, beautiful ones, and he could almost hear the mellifluous cries in his head. Will crying his name into the night.

As the image of Will climaxing crossed his mind, he felt heat knotted in his stomach. He knew it would only be a few seconds and-

“Ah, Will!” he shouted, his spine arched, and he was only scarcely aware of how thankful he was that his windows were airtight. His fluids splattered onto his fingers, thoroughly coating them and the steering wheel. 

He flopped against the seat, panting as he covered himself. He knew it was ridiculous, but he was again aware of the fact that he could have been caught. He was fortunate enough to not have parked his car in proximity to Will’s home, for he was sure that he would have woke him. He gave himself another moment to catch his breath before he searched his glove-compartment for something that could possibly clean up his shame.

The glove-box opened with a click. A dull yellow light shone on the contents, and to Hannibal’s relief, there were paper towels to be found. He grabbed a few and began wiping away his semen. He didn’t bother to clean his underwear, for he was going straight home to dress appropriately for an appointment he had in an hour anyway.

Sighing as he discarded the soiled napkins on the passenger’s seat, he dressed himself. Once his pants were zipped up, he straightened his posture and ignited the engine once again. He cursed himself for what he had just done. How could he objectify an image as innocent as Will’s sleeping face? He was disgusted. He didn’t allow himself to be guilty often, but now the embarrassment and guilt set in, and the reality was harsh.

He had been aroused by Will’s innocent face. How could he face him tonight at their appointment after what he’d done? He began driving down the road, but his mind sauntered elsewhere. Luckily, the road was empty, allowing him to ponder his life choices. 

Perhaps he had been a little impulsive. Perhaps a cold shower would have been the best treatment for the predicament that he had gotten himself into, but there was one glaring thing he couldn’t deny for the life of him. It had felt amazing.

He had never experienced so much pleasure in his life. He had slept with many men and women, but masturbating to Will had been the best sensation that he had ever experienced. If just the thought of him gave Hannibal such a rush, he couldn’t imagine what the real thing would make him feel like. He squirmed at the thought.

He knew he loved Will. There was no question about that, but these feelings of lust clouded his mind. How could he focus on caring for Will and protecting him if he desecrated him in such a manner? If he confided in Will about this, surely he would be shunned by him. He winced at the thought. He was already being avoided, and how could he cope with Will’s loathing because he had allowed himself to do something like this?

Indignation and remorse stabbed through his body, cold and harsh like reality. If he was going to be trying to have Will as his own, he couldn’t allow himself to succumb to his desires so easily. He had to maintain his focus on keeping others away from him, thus keeping Will away from harm. Will was his everything, and he wasn’t going to complacently sit and watch as he was taken away by a girl like Beverly. She was too normal. Smart, yes. Very, very, smart. But she wasn’t unique in any other way. 

He had so much to offer. Sure, his secrets of stalking and murder would be a setback in their relationship, but he was sure that Will had some mutual attraction to him too. Was he willing to cast aside those feelings for a relationship that was normal? 

It was a gamble. Perhaps Will was satisfied with normality, or even overjoyed to finally find it. However, he had the gift of manipulation. Persuading Will to continue being interested in him would prove to be nearly impossible, for he was already nearly failing, but Beverly did not have that gift. And to see Hannibal in his rawest form was so rare. He was always concealing something in order to appease others and dispel any doubts about his nature, but he had already revealed small hints to Will. Was Will willing to forfeit his progress and spend his life wondering about who Hannibal really was?

Hannibal thought not, but he couldn’t entirely be sure. Will had been even more distant than usual lately, and what was there to do about that? Will was only obligated to see him for therapy, and that was it. Even then, Will could cancel at nearly any time and attempt to search for another therapist. That notion alone shattered him. It was almost too much for him to bear. He couldn’t lose Will. 

He let out a sigh of distaste as his car pulled into his driveway, the tires crackling against the wet pavement. It had drizzled a bit earlier that morning, and it had been a little dreary ever since. Hannibal stopped the car, retrieved his keys from the ignition, and loped into his abode, rushing to his bedroom in order to be prepared in enough time for his first appointment of the day.

There were only a few hours before he had to face Will. Will, whose sleeping face that he not long ago pleasured himself to. Will, who was so blissfully unaware of the monsoon of emotions that Hannibal was battling in order to compose himself around him. Will, whose lithe body tormented him in the most tantalizing ways. Will, whose wide, frightened eyes see too much and know too little. 

He would have to be resolute in his struggle to maintain nonchalant. Under no circumstances could he allow himself to display any sort of conflicted emotion. He would, as usual, need to have a will of steel.

And oh, he would. It was his only option. This was only another secret on a long list that hand been expanding rapidly since his boyhood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal really needs to ease up on the post-masturbation-guilt, huh? Jeez, man. It's unhealthy.
> 
> Fun fact: I titled the document that held this text "new chappy chap". I'm not sure what compelled me to tell you that, but I deemed it important.


	3. It Was A Crime of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will visits Hannibal for his therapy session and discusses the stalking. Chaos ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The new chappy chap is up!  
> ..  
> ..  
> I do hope that I don't make that into an inside joke on here. Enjoy!

“Welcome, Will. Please sit,” Hannibal ushered the other man in, displaying no signs of weakness other than his twitching fingers. Surely, Will wouldn't notice something so miniscule. He didn’t display any signs of doing so. Hannibal’s relief was unrivaled by any feeling in the world. He already had begun expertly formulating responses in his mind during his last mind-numbing session with a neurotic woman who sought him out because she believed her husband was cheating on her. What a bore.

“Hello, Doctor Lecter,” Will responded dryly, obviously not roused from his slumber from too long. His hair was even more disheveled than usual, and he appeared to be struggling to blink sleep from his eyes. Hannibal swallowed his stifling remorse and continued, barely missing a beat within the conversation.

Hannibal arranged paperwork on his desk, the rustling of papers slightly taming the warring emotions inside of him. He almost felt himself apologizing for what he had done a few hours previous, but he was well aware that Will even knowing about it would send their relationship into even further disrepair.

He glanced up into the other’s eyes for a moment, searching. They traveled down to his shoulders, sensing similar tension there. A frown etched itself onto his previously plain expression, expressing his obvious concern. Of course, he was concerned about multiple affairs at that moment, however there was naught he could do about one of them. His stomach churned uncomfortably as a pang of heat and want radiated throughout him. 

“What seems to be the matter, Will? You appear to be quite tense,” Hannibal managed to say as nonchalantly as possible, as if he were simply an average therapist with appropriate therapeutic relationships. However, he had made a grave error as soon as he had found himself just as lost within Will’s tragically beautiful mind as Will had been.

Will’s eyes dilated as if he were in the presence of a predator and not a trained medical professional. Hannibal’s heart lurched, and he bit his lip, pretending he didn’t notice. If he concealed his agony, perhaps Will would be less tentative to open up to Hannibal.

“Doctor Lecter, I have a stalker. I know I do. I know I may have more than one, and I don’t know who they are, but I wish they could know that it makes me quite uncomfortable to know that they see me at all times of the day and night.” Could he know?

Impossible. He was nestled in the arms of sweet slumber when Hannibal last spied on him. Perhaps he had seen the other one and suspected that Hannibal had exploited him to him. However, the opposite was true; he had been doubly sure to eradicate him upon seeing him. However, he still alerted Jack because it was indeed true. Will still did have a stalker. It just wasn’t the one that could have possibly killed him.

It was the one that was sitting directly across from him, ashamed for his previous actions of that day. Will couldn’t have seen him getting off, for he was alone in that abandoned clearing. He had made sure of it. Perhaps he suspected him for another reason.

“Your pause is unnerving me, Doctor Lecter. Do you know something you’re not letting on about?”

Hannibal roused himself from his reverie; he couldn’t allow Will to perceive him negatively. Will’s approval of him was crucial if his motive was to slowly steer him away from Beverly. She was a nice girl, but Will was HIS.

“No, I don’t. I apologize; I had expected you to elaborate further,” he paused, clearing his throat, “because I’d like to know more. What did you see Will? I had seen someone watching you when I was last in your company. It was unsettling. Have you seen him too?” Hannibal questioned, his head tilted slightly and his hands folded innocently in his lap. 

Will was nauseous at the memory, the feeling of being observed without his consent. He gulped down the bile rising in his throat and gave a shaky sigh, desperate to calm himself before he retched on Hannibal’s floor. He closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again once his mental rollercoaster came to a complete stop.

“I just felt his eyes on me – burning my skin. He didn’t even know me, but it felt like his eyes did. I caught glimpses of him in my window, but he was always running away. I’m not sure if it’s even the same person. One person feels like a protector and the other feels like a hawk observing his prey. My empathy is worth very little in this situation, but I really think I have multiple stalkers,” Will was hardening his resolve, and Hannibal repressed a smile at the boy’s keen intellect. His chest radiated with warmth and tugged with yearning. If only he could pull him to his chest and promise to protect him from harm. He exhaled and gazed into Will’s eyes for a split second before returning his eyes to his paperwork.

“If you’re uncomfortable, I could always come out to your house and observe,” Hannibal offered, taking great care to remove the desperate longing from his voice. He hoped that Will wouldn’t refuse, but he was quite sure that he would.

Will’s heart raced, and he feared Hannibal would sense it. He gripped the chair to disguise his quivering hands. Luckily, he was pale enough that Hannibal would have difficulty noticing with how much force he gripped it. Hannibal’s heart skipped a beat, a stabbing sensation piercing through him as he gauged Will’s reaction. Will suspected him. He smelled the fear in the air.

The tension between them was strangling Hannibal. The silence hung heavy and stifling around them as Will continued to be silent. Hannibal longed to just gather him into his arms and assure him his intentions were good, but his behavior earlier that day had caused him to question it himself. What would he do with Will if he persuaded him to reciprocate his emotions? Would his actions truly benefit Will, or would he only use him?

“I apologize, that sounded a bit inappropria-,” Hannibal was cut off by Will, who, to his disdain now appeared to be livid with fury. Standing, he shouted at the other man.

“You’re damn right, Hannibal! You haven’t considered me for a single moment. You’re just attempting to cover your tracks as you always do. Just tell me, Hannibal. Are you stalking me?” Will’s voice cut through Hannibal as he took his seat once more. Hannibal felt his stomach twinge with anxiety and his chest throbbing with anguish. He managed to appear slightly offended, despite the fact that he felt enormously remorseful.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Will. I’m just sitting here listening. My suggestion from earlier was just intended to soothe your mind, but I understand now that you don’t trust me. I apologize that my behavior makes you believe that I’m the perpetrator, but I’m not, Will. I’m your friend. I wouldn’t do anything that would hurt you,” Hannibal spoke. He scarcely concealed the turmoil that currently was taking place in his mind. He was proud of how well he was holding up, but he wasn’t proud of how he had hurt Will. He wasn’t proud of objectifying him earlier that day.

Will simply stared at the floor, quivering. He was conflicted. Hannibal stood, walking over to Will before kneeling beside him and placing a hand on his shoulder. Hannibal’s skin ignited at the contact, but he dismissed the electrifying sensation. His objective was comforting Will. It would calm both of them.

“Will, I sincerely apologize. Even if you don’t believe me, believe my apology. I’m saddened by the fact that you would accuse me of doing something that would inflict any harm upon you, but I understand that you have your reasons. Just please, believe that I’m sorry for arousing any suspicion by any of my behavior. I’m sorry for everything. I’d do anything to make it up to you,” Hannibal’s words were genuine, and Will easily perceived that. 

“Doctor Lecter….” Will trailed off, appalled by what he had just heard. His own chest ached, and his proximity to Hannibal filled him with a certain longing as well. 

‘No, he’s bad for you. Don’t do it. He’s bad for you,’ Will scolded himself, not unlike a person on a diet scolding themselves for wanting chocolate.

Despite Will’s mental reprimands, he felt as if Hannibal was magnetized to him. His mind was scrambling for words, actions, anything. His cheeks flushed a rosy color and Will briefly noticed a glimmer of adoration in the other’s eyes. They both were restraining themselves, waiting for the moment when one pulled away and they were left to collect their thoughts. 

However, after a few tense seconds, that moment didn’t come. Hannibal was debating whether he should pull away from him, but he found himself gazing into Will’s eyes for as long as he would allow. He knew Will wasn’t a fan of eye contact, but in that moment, Will felt himself relaxing for the first time in a while. Hannibal’s hand traveled from Will’s shoulder to his cheek, remaining there for a moment.

Hannibal smirked at how warm Will’s cheek was. He had taken notice to how flushed they were already, however in his dark office, the lighting prevented him from appreciating it fully. He stroked his cheek lightly with his thumb, sighing as he let go, stood, and departed to his seat without another word. Will’s heart still thudded in his ears, and he felt a dull ache blossom in his chest as he watched Hannibal take a seat.

“Doctor Lecte-…Hannibal, I…I believe your apology,” Will confessed breathlessly, suddenly a tad bit more energetic than he was when he first walked in. Hannibal’s heart soared. He couldn’t refrain from smiling. Will had called him by his first name rather than his title. It had been something that he had hoped for for such a long time.

“Thank you, Will. It means more than you know, “ Hannibal hadn’t yet noticed how his smile was beaming almost goofily. He was quite immersed in the moment. Will repressed a chuckle at Hannibal’s nearly-dopey facial expression.

“Should I call the police to report the stalking?” Will inquired, his facial expression no longer displaying concern. It almost seemed as if he were gossiping, as opposed to conversing about the steps that were required to dispose of a stalker.

Hannibal swallowed back the bit of panic that had reemerged, wiping the goofy grin off of his face and replacing it with one that was more appropriate. He cursed himself for allowing such a ridiculous facial expression to creep onto his face. Damn that Will, making him so giddy that he grinned as if he were a naïve little school girl. 

“Well, it depends. Do you feel as if you are uncomfortable or endangered by this stalker? Do you feel that your well-being is at risk?” Hannibal questioned, interested in hearing Will’s answer. Unlike his other patients, he had a certain quality about him that drew Hannibal to him. It was far too late to pull back now; he already had a vested interest in him.

He observed as Will mused upon the question, his lips knit together and his gaze directed towards the ceiling. It filled Hannibal with hope to see Will actually pondering the question. He knew then that Will was truly considering another option, perhaps leaning ever-so-slightly more towards a no.

“I don’t think so now. I haven’t seen the more aggressive one for a few days now, which leads me to believe that I truly do have a protector. Perhaps he was taken out by the other one,” Will explained his thought-process, and as usual, Hannibal was impressed by him.

A smirk played its way onto Hannibal’s features, and he made no move to repress it. A part of him wanted Will to know that he had done it. He had murdered for the sake of his darling William. 

“Oh, I think so indeed. I can’t blame him, either. It must be just infuriating to see someone objectify what he loves,” Hannibal responded, voicing his thoughts from the night.

Hannibal allowed himself to traverse his mind palace for a moment, recalling the night. It was a few days after he had first seen the other man begin to stalk Will as his prey. He had observed his patterns from the shadows for that week.

The man was relatively pitiful. He appeared to be delusional, pacing about and spouting off nonsense that Hannibal could scarcely comprehend. As soon as Hannibal had an opportunity to observe, he knew his work would be already done for him. The “predator” in front of him was scrawny, pasty, and built more like a mouse. His posture was horribly slouched and his arms swung about like a monkey’s. Hannibal had no problem with eradicating that pest.

He crept behind him, donning his plastic murder suit, his poise seeming well-mannered and calm. His eyes, however, betrayed his cold, unwavering distaste for the other’s putrid stench and poor-mannered intentions. He felt the hunger for blood surge within him as he swiftly snatched him by the neck, squeezing as tightly as possible. As his veins contracted and expanded beneath his firm grip, he watched the wide, buggy eyes beneath him bulging as the man began to burst. The man only reached up weakly, his thin, bony hands barely exerting any force. Hannibal scoffed at the futile attempt and gripped more tightly, flinging the man’s body against the ground repeatedly.

Sure, his rage was based solely off of the grounds that he had intended to harm Will, but to him, it was justified. However, he wouldn’t eat this man if his life depended on it. His scent was one of disease and neglect. There wasn’t any valuable meat to be found on him. After the man’s fruitless struggle had left him, his eyes dull and his skin tinted with a robin egg blue, Hannibal stuffed him in his trunk. He disposed of him quite well later, but for that moment, he’d only focused on Will. He peered in the window to see the man reading serenely, without being in harm’s way. He had imprinted that image meticulously into his mind as well. 

Hannibal recalled that he slept far more peacefully that night knowing that Will was no longer in harm’s way.

“I think so too, Hannibal. After talking to you, I’m not as concerned about it anymore,” he knew. He had shot Hannibal a coy look when he said that. Hannibal smirked knowingly. The way that their gestures played off of each other was more intimate than anyone else could comprehend.

“I’m glad to hear that, Will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always found that Will and Hannibal's dynamic is interesting. At one moment, they can be talking about perfectly normal things, and the next, Will is confessing how he wants to murder Hannibal with his hands. 
> 
> Also, I really enjoyed how when Will was in therapy, Hannibal and Will would communicate through discreet gestures as if they had something to hide. They just knew each other so well that they naturally spoke that way, and that's intriguing to see, read, and write.


	4. Shower Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will muses upon his situation with Hannibal while in the shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm sorry for not uploading this earlier. My mom was in the hospital today, and I was quite busy yesterday. I know it's not that long, but I hope the quality makes up for it!

On the day following Will’s therapy session with Hannibal, he was more at ease. His electrifying blue eyes held some energy within them for once, for he had slept quite well without having to fret over someone lurking, concealing themselves behind the blackness beyond his home. He was slightly more stable, which was not typical after his therapy sessions with Hannibal. 

He discovered himself waking as his alarm sounded, the robotic screech scaring him half to death as he rose quite hurriedly. He wasn’t used to waking to the sound of an alarm. It was always either Jack or his nightmares that startled him out of a slumber first. 

He yawned, stretching his arms and shoulders before rising. If he could recall, he had set his alarm an hour and a half before his classes that began at seven, so it was roughly five-thirty in the morning. He glanced at the once more, affirming his estimation, and then made his way into his bathroom. 

As he idly turned on the water, the tiny beads pouring out, he detected a figure looming behind him. He squeezed his eyes shut, attempting to convince himself it wasn’t real and didn’t warrant any concern, but it was to no avail. He turned his head, slowly opening his eyes, to reveal a silent, looming stag. It wasn’t black as it usually was. It was simply a stag sat beside him, observing with silent interest. He shivered, almost hesitant to disrobe in the company of the creature, and felt the water with his hands.

It was pleasantly warm, and the pitter-patter that sounded from the water gently kissing the walls, the floor, and the plastic blue shower curtain that encased everything. Will was on the brink of slipping into sleep once more, but he was so rudely awakened by the stag, which assertively bumped its skull against Will’s. Despite the force behind it, there was a surprising lack of pain. 

Will blinked the sleep from his eyes, outstretching a hand to stroke the stag’s fur, only to have to flinch backwards as it bolted into nonexistence. Will exhaled softly, shutting the door and disrobing. To his comfort, there were no windows that permitted any sort of outside vision into his bathroom. Although he had a shower curtain, he still could feel himself becoming slightly unnerved. Although he was confident that Hannibal had to be the remaining stalker, he wasn’t quite comfortable enough around the peculiar, reserved man to allow him to see something so lewd.

Not that he expected him to want to, but it still wasn’t something that he exactly felt comfortable with allowing something like that to occur.

Will stepped into the shower, the warm beads pelting his spine pleasantly. He released a sigh of euphoria as he felt his muscles slowly relax. He had been requiring such a therapeutic shower for such a long time.

He rolled his neck, relishing in the feeling of his spine being aligned, and reached for the shampoo on the shelf beside him. Applying the creamy liquid to his soaked tresses, he allowed his mind to wander to his therapy session last night with Hannibal. He had so quickly went from being distraught about Doctor Lecter’s possible stalking to being quite grateful for his company. It was so bizarre. 

However, he knew now that Hannibal had killed for him. Despite the implications, Will had felt somewhat comforted by that. He knew that he was playing with fire, and part of him longed to run away, but he was undeniably drawn to the gore, the thrill, the obsession. His heart burned for Hannibal’s touch, and his mind cried out for his cleansing. However, despite all of this, he felt conflicted.

‘I want to be with Beverly. She’d be so much better for me, and she’s such an intelligent and sweet person. She’d help me find even the smallest amount of normality in my life. However, Hannibal is such a beautiful and mysterious man. My curiosity is piqued by him. Sure, Bev is a wonderful, safe, and stimulating person, but Hannibal has such an effect on me, and I know I have an effect on him,’ Will mused as the shampoo in his hair foamed in his hair. His nails scraped satisfyingly against his scalp, and he shivered.

He was also anxious about what would happen if Hannibal found out he was even considering a relationship with Beverly. It was an unsettling thought. If Hannibal had murdered someone for merely coveting him, what would he do if he discovered he was with Beverly? He was truly in a pickle. He had to consider the consequences. Although he had a small crush on Bev, and she was more beneficial to his health, Will would most likely get her killed if he even went on an innocent date with her.

He sighed, simultaneously hating Hannibal while feeling the stirrings of adoration in his chest for him. It was so deliciously contradictory, and he couldn’t help but feel thrilled by his indignation and infatuation. It was so sickening, yet he felt so alive. He could feel his heart expanding and contracting, accelerating its pace as if fleeing from a predator. 

Hannibal was his heroin, his poison, his thrill. He yearned to feel him pulsating through his veins, causing him to lose himself. He knew that he would eventually unravel him until there was nothing left of him, but something about the obvious bloodlust in Hannibal's eyes, his seductive hints, his protectiveness, just drew Will in as if he were magnetized.

However, he knew it was too unsafe a route to take. Perhaps he would have to eviscerate Hannibal to escape his hypnotism. Will’s heart leaped at the thought. Hannibal’s body struggling beneath his hands.

Hannibal’s eyes, wide and full of vigor. Hannibal’s hair, disheveled and irresistibly sexy. Hannibal’s muscles flexing beneath his skin.

Hannibal.

Will shivered and arched his body into the water, his heart and mind racing with the suggestion. He felt so delightfully naughty.

And what was to be done about that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will's dangerous too, isn't he? Hannibal created a monster.


	5. Tragically Beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will wakes to the sound of his phone ringing.
> 
> Jack.
> 
> As he walks outside to drive to whatever crime scene that he was given directions to, he finds that he won't have to travel far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thanks for all of your support, guys! I'm really glad that you're liking this story so far!
> 
> I'm trying to keep my updates consistent every day, but bear with me if my schedule is disturbed! Hopefully I'll have all of this published before long!

Will once again awoke to the sound of his phone ringing, and with disdain, he realized it was Jack calling him about another crime scene. He stirred, groaning as he answered, his voice thick with drowsiness.

“Hello?”

“Will, I need you to come take a gander at this. It’s important,” Jack insisted. It was always more important than his rest. He was always reminded that lives were on the line, but he had hoped to sleep in a little longer.

“Alright, where is it at?” Will mumbled, rubbing his eyes as his feet found his slippers. Ah, cozy and warm.

There was an elongated pause, and Will had used that opportunity to don his coat and lope outside. His eyes widened as he dropped the phone, his mind immediately racing to the thought of one man.

Hannibal.

Jack hung up the phone, his stoic eyes bearing into Will’s being, as if suspecting him. Will had taken no part of this. He hadn’t even been outside of his home until that exact second, but nothing he could say would dismiss Jack’s doubt. Nothing.

“I was about to say that it was out here, but it appears that you already knew.”

Will huffed a sigh of indignation and studied the body, whose skin, muscles, and flesh had been removed with its insides eviscerated. It was almost laid out as if to suggest that it had leaped out of its own body. The skeleton was laid out in a tree, its position indicating that it might have been preparing to pounce. The bones were astonishingly clean, considering that someone had hand-skinned it. Upon closer inspection, its heart was placed within its mouth. The typical stench of doom wasn’t quite as prominent in this case. 

Will closed his eyes, allowing the pendulum of his heartbeat to swing, lulling him into the dreamlike state of empathy. He was aware of the vague sensation of being swept beneath the tidal waves of his mind.

Once he opened them again, he was near his house in the dark of the night. He strolled over to his window, his poise that of a privileged and cultured man. He was in a trance, almost completely overtaken by his empathy. He was oblivious to who he really was in that moment. Naught existed but the images that his empathic mind concocted from the stimuli it received. 

“I watch the object of my affection sleep restlessly. I feel angered by the fact that I can’t be there to comfort him; he is not mine,” Will voiced the thoughts of the killer, his mind numb and his face resolute, as if he was unwavering in his passion. The sensations of love combined with lust are a whisky-like cocktail that seethes through his veins. The killer yearned for this man’s touch.

Will begins strutting to a car. His motions are fluid and graceful, but he had no conscious control. He opened the car door and put the key in the ignition.

“In my rage, I still appear to be calm. I drive to find a release. My release is through spilled blood,” Will continues as the car starts. He drives robotically, seeming as if he is diligent in paying attention to the road when the path has already been determined for him – the empath’s destiny.

“I recognize a drunken man standing outside of a pub. I smile, offer to help him get home, and then lure him into my car. He had inconvenienced me greatly in the past,” Will executed all of these actions and then commenced the drive back to Wolf Trap. 

The man had been rudely persistent about his destination. Will felt the killer’s fury froth beneath his skin, seething through his blood like fire. His previous frustration and his current abhorrence for the man’s discourtesy set his anger ablaze. However, he must be patient; now is not the time. 

“I stop the car in an abandoned clearing behind my beloved’s home. I do not want him to see me in the act, but I want him to know that this creation was mine," Will droned, turning to face the drunken man with a knowing smirk. The man whined as if he were a lowly animal.

“I am the predator and he is my prey. I leap into the back of the vehicle, restrain him, and slit his throat,” Will performed the actions and listened as the man’s intoxicated whines gave way to muffled screams, and then to nothing. He felt the sick thrill and satisfaction of watching the life bleed from his eyes and his skin pale to blue.

He shivered in pleasure. Killing that man had been quite gratifying. His blood felt like liquid energy pulsating through his body with every heartbeat. He removed his hands from the man’s lifeless body and departed from the car before dragging him out of it.

“I have surgical knowledge and precision. I plan to impress my beloved; he….knows me,” Will paused, extracting a more precise weapon from his person – a scalpel. He began tirelessly working away, gingerly scraping away the skin and flesh and cleaning the bone along the way.

He hung the body in its exact location, placing the heart in its mouth as a finishing touch.

“This is my design,” Will finished, closing his eyes and feeling himself being sucked back into reality. Cruel, harsh, unstable reality.

As soon as he opened his eyes, people swarmed him. Befuddlement clouded his judgement and he attempted to step away, overloaded by the noise. Jack Crawford, however, was quite annoyingly persistent.

“What did you see, Will? What did you see?” 

He bit back the urge to curse at him, to insist that he needed another moment, but instead he just stood in silence for a moment, his hands placed over his ears in attempts to reduce the sensory overload. He felt his heartbeat quicken and it took all of the willpower he could muster just to resist storming off, locking himself back in his bedroom, and going back to sleep.

“WHAT DID YOU SEE?” Jack shouted. Will only pressed his hands closer to his ears. He needed a moment to collect himself and quietly absorb reality before he reported his experiences. It was not only that, but he also still felt the killer’s thrill throbbing throughout him.

Hannibal. Hannibal’s thrill was throbbing throughout him. Hannibal’s release. He imagined Hannibal restraining the man that he had held beneath him. He imagined Hannibal soothingly speaking to the man to keep him quiet. He imagined Hannibal’s shoulders, taunt and strong, as he pounced upon his prey.

Damn.

“WHAT DID YOU SEE, WILL?” Jack shouted once more. Will slowly uncovered his ears, feigning meeting Jack’s gaze by looking up at his forehead.

“It was a gift for me. My stalker wanted me to see his work,” Will responded simply, his voice displaying little instability. He was strong now.

“How do you know?” 

Will gritted his teeth at Jack’s ignorance. He had inquired – quite rudely, might he add – about what Will had perceived with his empathy, and then he had the stupidity to ask how he came to that conclusion. He bit back an angry retort and sighed.

“I saw it. It was the only thing on the killer’s mind. This killer is the person who has been stalking me, and that’s a fact I’m sure of. He wanted me to know that,” Will explained, a note of agitation singing quietly in his voice.

Jack sighed, as if he had been hoping for something else, and then turned back to the body. It was macabre art, and Will felt a shiver of appreciation traverse down his spine. He felt his heart tug him in the direction of the body, filling him with longing to touch the skeleton as Hannibal had. To feel the thrill once more. If that’s how it felt to kill with such passion instead of fear, he desperately wanted to perform his own sacrilege for Hannibal. He wanted to line up skeletons at his doorstep.

He wanted Hannibal to see it and know. He wanted to be like a young, naïve high school student passing notes, but he wanted to profess his feelings in crimson on a canvas of bodies. 

He wanted to be dangerous.

“Good morning, Will.” Will shivered, nearly pressing himself against Hannibal in a desperate attempt for contact, but he composed himself and positioned himself beside Hannibal.

“It’s tragically beautiful,” Will responded. Hannibal studied Will’s facial expression with a smirk painted on as his own. His eyes darted down his body, gauging his full reaction. His adrenaline surged when he deduced that Will did indeed know that the body had been a gift. 

Beverly was standing near the body, searching for any clues as to who the culprit was, but to no avail. Hannibal’s meticulous cleaning and precautionary measures had ensured that. Will felt conflicted for a moment until his breath was taken away by a friendly hand resting on his shoulder. Will glanced over at it before meeting Hannibal’s intense gaze.

“Death has its beauty just as life does. Perhaps this killer is offering to spend both with you,” Hannibal suggested, his eyes dark and secretive. Will felt his stomach churn. 

He knew that he should escape while he could. Perhaps he could assist Beverly to take his mind off of this, but he knew that nothing could. Hannibal was even more beautiful than the crime scenes that he created. He wanted to escape, yet at the same time, he felt himself rooted to the spot.

“Well, he’ll have to take me to dinner, first,” Will joked weakly. His knees felt like jelly and he felt uncomfortably prickly and warm. 

Hannibal chuckled darkly, looking forward at his masterpiece once more. He had to remain stoic and conceal the pride that blossomed within him. Watching Will’s mesmerized expression made all of the effort worth it. Feeling tenacious, he leaned to whisper in Will’s ear.

“I’d love to have you for dinner, Will. I’ve always insisted that you’re always welcome in my kitchen. Besides, I have a surplus of meat right now that I've been meaning to get rid of.”

Will felt as if he was going to be ill, but his body screamed with want. He couldn’t deny the pull that he felt – the desire, the necessity. His stomach churned with anxiety and disgust, but his body and mind pulled him towards Hannibal. He wanted to retch, yet he wanted to fuck at the same time.

“I’d love to take you up on that offer, Hannibal.”

“Tonight at eight? My schedule is open any time after eight.”

“Tonight at eight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like both Will and Hannibal are becoming more obsessed with every new chappy chap.


	6. Tangled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will meets Hannibal at his house for dinner and things quickly escalate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SMUT AHEAD! BEWARE!! Thank you for your patience! I was almost evicted from my house, so I had to sort that out. Also, this chapter took FOREVER to write.

As Hannibal returned from his most recent hunt, his pupils dilated and his blood surging through his veins, he glanced at the ticking clock in his living room. It was five past seven, which allowed him plenty of time to begin cooking before Will arrived. He had fibbed a little when he said he was free any time past eight. He simply needed to allow ample time to find the meat that he would cook into their meal.

After his final therapy session of the day at five, he had quite meticulously chosen the finest prey that he could possibly think of. A rude, yet cultured individual that attended the operas with him from time to time. His taste would be exquisite, for he ate fine cuisine and drank tasteful wine. Perhaps Hannibal would even cook him in wine. Nothing was too good or too sweet for his William.

He had already eviscerated the unfortunate man, who he had known would have been attending the opera. However, he never made it into the opera building. The only song that he heard before he met his doom was the song of the hunt.

As Hannibal gently carried the meat to his table, taking great care not to lacerate it any further with the knife he was carrying, he hummed a smooth, sultry tune – a tune he had used to soothe his dying victim not so long ago. The low rumble of his voice carried throughout the house, his voice haunting yet serene at the same time. 

He steadied his hand to cut into the meat, the notes of his voice echoing off of the walls around him, the melody driven by the dull thrum of his heartbeat. He drifted away into his own melody, his design. 

As the blade slid through the meat, clacking against the cutting board almost musically, the tune rose to a crescendo, his voice melancholy like the somber cry of the cello. His heart continued to thud, tell-tale and yearning – for love, for life, for more experiences. He longed to immerse Will into his world of indulgence. He could feel that the time for his big reveal was nigh; for Will had caught a few of his discreet hints. He was on a hunt.

However, this hunt was drastically different than the others. He dropped subtle hints with vague allusions that only the most observant outsider could catch. Will’s keen intellect allowed for such a playful chase. The seduction was something graceful that Hannibal attempted in earnest, and he ached for Will to reciprocate it even more than he already was. 

And tonight was his chance. He could persuade Will to love him, and perhaps to even allow him to ravish him while the night was still young.

His crotch stirred, his stomach lurching as heat pulsated through his veins. He sighed and attempted to ignore the sensation, for it would only serve to disadvantage him when Will arrived. He had to maintain level-headed if he wanted to compete with Will’s wit, which proved to be quite the challenge. Will was the only person who truly posed a threat. He was Hannibal’s Kryptonite. The very blood in his veins became poisonous when he saw Will, and the poison was sweeter than any victory he’d ever tasted.

As he poured exquisite wine in his pan and placed the lightly seasoned meat carefully and skillfully with it, he felt the stove’s fires as if they were his own. Simmering, burning, coaxing. He had danced ever so intimately with insanity in the past few months, and he was prepared to take the plunge. Perhaps losing his penchant for calculation to the sinful dances of love and lust would be beneficial. After all, he scarcely allowed other hearts to touch his own.

The thrill of watching another man’s body cook in front of him combined with the anticipation for Will’s visit made him almost giddy. Although the aches of want and need radiated through him, he felt bliss. How could he feel downtrodden after such a beautiful night that had been dedicated to satisfying his intrinsic desires? It would be quite a waste not to savor the moment that had been handed to him with such ease. Sure, he had had to exert a certain amount of effort when catching his prey, but the chase had been worth it.

And, if Will requited his feelings, the chase would have been worth it. Although he smelled the fear on Will, he also smelled the same passion that seethed throughout his body. All that was left was for Will to admit it. Their chase was more of a battle, and Hannibal strove to win. When Hannibal strove for something, he better damn well get it or there would be a hefty price to pay. He would not lose Will – not now when he was so close.

Hannibal shuddered, struggling to steady himself. He grasped the pan and lightly turned the meat with a fork. A pleased smile sneaked across his features, his dark eyes accented alluringly. It was coming along quite well, from what he perceived. It could easily be passed off for a high-quality cut of steak, but he wasn’t concerned either way. He couldn’t conceal his true nature from Will for long.

Glancing up at the clock, he noticed he had approximately ten minutes before Will arrived. He rushed to set the table, his wrists flicking skillfully, before hurrying back to the stove and turning it off, leaving the “steaks” to simmer on their own in the bubbling wine. He gathered garnish for the plates, tastefully applying it, before adding the steaks and setting it in the spot that Will would be sat in. He glanced up at the clock, seeing that it was 8:01. His nearly screeched in anticipation.

He straightened himself out, smoothing back a few unruly hairs, and awaited Will’s arrival. To say he was excited would have been an understatement. He was anxious, yet calm. He was as conflicted as he could be, but he had to assure himself that he could maintain his sanity for at least a few more hours. It had to be done.

After three minutes of waiting, he heard the shrieking trill of his doorbell and he rushed to greet his guest.

“Welcome, Will. You look quite dashing, if you don’t mind my saying. Please, come in and have a seat at the table. I’ve prepared steak for you tonight,” Hannibal crooned, a polite smile playing out on his features. 

Will nodded his thanks and sat in his spot, but before he could push in his own chair, Hannibal was behind him doing it for him. His cheeks flushed and he stammered, struggling to regain his grasp on the conversation.

“It’s no problem, Will. Cut into your steak and see if it’s to your liking. Medium rare, correct?” Hannibal questioned, sitting down across from him. He repressed a smirk as he took note of the crimson that had rose to Will’s cheeks. They were only dancing around the topic, now…

Will sliced into the steak, red, transparent ooze gushing from it. Hannibal stifled an animalistic groan as he observed, his mind meandering off into the dark recesses of his memory. How, how he enjoyed to see blood oozing from a cut like that. Perhaps Will would someday consent to harsh whipping until his bottom bled. Of course, with proper consent; he would never, EVER hurt his Will if Will hadn’t asked for it.

“Perfect as usual. I don’t know how you do it, Hannibal. I can only cook soup and mediocre barbeque,” Will joked, chuckling lightly at the thought of his cooking. Hannibal’s eyes sparkled with adoration as he cut into his own steak.

“It’s a passion of mine. When I’m passionate about something, I truly strive to make it perfect – or in some cases,” Hannibal paused, allowing his heartbeat to set the rhythm of this conversation, “make it mine.”

Will visibly shivered, a mixture of hot and cold assaulting his body, and Hannibal stifled a chuckle that threatened to sing from his throat. He had to compose himself and permit the flow of conversation. In their case, disruption of the flow could be detrimental to how the night went. Will strongly detested awkwardness and couldn’t function in it.

“I suppose everyone is that way to an extent, but you seem to obsess. It can be as beneficial as it is detrimental,” Will added, averting his gaze to his food. He took another bite and closed his eyes, savoring the explosion of flavor.

“Indeed. We all have our flaws, but flaws can have benefits as well. We are who we are, and we can’t change that nor what we obsess over. At times, obsession blurs the line between sanity and insanity and can lead us to pursue things that we may not typically pursue. In the end, it can make or break you. Do you know what it’s like to be broken by obsession, Will?” Hannibal dared to ever so slightly cross the boundary that had been silently agreed upon. Will took note of this and flushed once more. 

“Of course. At times it also blurs the lines of morality, which are already blurred in the first place. I feel quite conflicted when I’m obsessed,” Will mused, verbally stepping forward to meet Hannibal at that very boundary. Hannibal licked his lip with a slow, deliberate movement of his tongue. 

The room felt unbearably warm, causing Will to almost unnoticeably adjust his clothing. Hannibal was somehow accustomed to the warmth, so he was able to persist on without displaying a single sign of weakness. Will felt small and overpowered as he often did around him.

“You forget your actions have consequences and sacrifice all that you have for the one thing that’s on your mind. It plagues you, and yet it is a driving force. What is to be done but to feed the ravenous beast inside that cries for more?” Hannibal’s eyes bore into Will’s. They felt separated from their world, and Will wasn’t sure if he liked it. Once again, he felt as if he wanted to bolt from, and submit to Hannibal at the same time, which was impossible in the reality that he lived. Despite the fact that those possibilities both existed, he couldn’t simply experience them both in his reality. 

“I’m not sure, Hannibal;” his name was so appealing coming from Will’s lips, “I’m not sure. If I had an answer, there would be many situations that would be entirely different.”

Hannibal felt the ache pulsate through him once more. Will was so agonizingly close and yet so horribly far. He could feel the tingling from his fingertips, which longed to caress him, to his mind, which longed to cleanse him, and to his feet, which longed to stand beside him. This hunt was a painstakingly-slow process, but it made the prey all the more enjoyable. He would soon be reveling in the spoils of his catch – his victory.

“Perhaps we would not be sitting at this table right now and speaking to each other. Reason abhors meetings like ours,” Hannibal responded, struggling to hold himself together. His muscles twitched inconspicuously, but the sheer proximity and the fact that Will was enjoying the meat of his hunt made his heart pound and adrenaline circulate through his veins. He almost couldn’t bear it any longer, but he forced himself to be still. Painfully still.

“Of course it does. Reason takes a vacation when obsession is around,” Will didn’t address Hannibal’s claim, but he met his gaze, implying that it was true. He took another bite of his meal and swallowed it, smirking knowingly. Hannibal was enthralled.

“Obsession is love that is venomous. Perhaps obsession isn’t why we find ourselves here tonight,” he ventured once more, probing the line they had drawn so skillfully. Will set down his fork and met Hannibal’s gaze once more. 

Hannibal’s heart throbbed loudly in his ears, his hands trembling with anticipation. He knew the real answer, but he needed to hear it from Will’s lips. He needed to see him as he said it. 

“I would agree with that statement, Hannibal,” he concurred, causing Hannibal’s heart to skip a beat, “and I know that you probably have something in mind, don’t you?”

“You never cease to amaze me, Will. Tell me, what do you want to do tonight?” he purred before finishing his meal, his eyes glinting dangerously. He felt as if their bodies were magnetized, and it was so difficult to resist to simply walk over to him and claim him.

“I think you know very well what I want to do. I can see it in your eyes, Hannibal. You want it too. You’re scarcely composing yourself,” Will responded, finishing his own meal. Hannibal stood and gathered both of their plates in silence. That man was going to be the death of him in the truest sense.

Hannibal’s body was on fire and he felt restless as he placed the dishes in the sink, not even cleaning them. He didn’t want to seem overeager, but he couldn’t stand this any longer. His mind was struggling to grapple at its control.

“You read me like a book, Will. Perhaps we should take this somewh-,” Hannibal was cut off by Will’s lips on his. So inappropriate and rude, yet somehow Hannibal felt himself not minding. His hands roamed to Will’s hips, snaking around them and pulling him closer as they continued to roam over his body.

Their breathing was slow, as if they felt themselves stopped in time. Hannibal and Will’s lips worked in rhythm and drew quiet groans from both of them as they felt the relief of finally touching. The closeness was no longer the bane of their existence; it was their pleasurable undoing.

When they broke away, Will gazed dazedly into Hannibal’s eyes, trembling with fear and desire. He nearly jumped when Hannibal’s hand found its way to his cheek.

“You know, Will, this is quite the interesting game we play. Always at each other’s sides, waiting for something to occur. Have you considered the consequences of this?” Hannibal questioned, ghosting over Will’s pale, flushed skin with his thumb. 

“I have. I just can’t deny this impulse right now. Perhaps nothing will become of this, but I need you right now,” Will confessed, planting his lips on Lecter’s jawbone and kissing down to his neck, where he began to idly suck.

Hannibal stifled a groan and placed a hand on Will’s buttocks, squeezing firmly. Will yelped in surprise, earning a chuckle from the other. Pressing his body closer to Will’s, he found that they were now coming closer and closer to fucking on a kitchen counter. Will detached from Hannibal’s neck and grunted from the pain of the counter digging into his skin. 

“Sorry about that. You excited me a little. Are you positive you don’t want to go somewhere else?” Hannibal chuckled, leaning over Will to unbutton his shirt.

Will pulled Hannibal in for another kiss, bucking his hips and groaning into his lips. He helped Hannibal out of his suit before latching on to his lips once again. God, they were so tantalizingly close to going through with it – something that they had yearned to do for so long.

“On the floor,” was all that Will offered as he continued to disrobe, leaving him in his boxers. Hannibal smirked and did the same, following Will down to the floor as he loomed over him, placing kisses down his body.

“I’d typically opt for something more romantic, but it appears that you wouldn’t have it any other way,” Hannibal chuckled darkly, removing Will’s boxers. His hands immediately flew to Will’s cock, stroking him to even further hardness. 

“Mmm..as long as you’re a part of it, it’s romantic to me,” Will moaned, clinging to Hannibal’s spine with his fingernails, drawing a little bit of blood. 

Hannibal’s heart raced as he slipped out of his own boxers, kissing Will gently as if to ease him. He wanted to be sure that Will consented and felt the utmost comfort and trust. Stroking himself gently to lubricate his cock with pre-cum, he sighed. It had been so long since he had actually lain with someone he loved.

“I could say the same about you, Will. You’re so delightfully interesting. I can’t help but be infatuated with you,” Hannibal crooned, his fingers prodding at Will’s entrance, earning a shiver from Will.

He knew very well that Will wasn’t a virgin, but he didn’t mind. Will’s past lovers weren’t his business. Although he would have liked to be Will’s first, he was sure Will would appreciate the privacy, and this moment was far too perfect to ruin with petty arguments. Will was squirming, hot and bothered beneath his merciless fingers. What other sight was more beautiful than that? What he was witnessing was pure art. 

Will’s skin was hot against Hannibal’s fingertips as he prodded, his penis leaking pre-cum as he devoured the sight of will writhing beneath him, biting back moans of ecstasy. The sight threatened to push him over the edge, but instead, he stroked Will’s hair, the dark curls leaking with perspire.

“Oh William, how you tempt me. You’re so beautiful,” Hannibal crooned, truly enjoying the sight beneath him. He curled his fingers into Will’s g-spot and smirked as Will arched his spine so divinely, as if he were a piece of fine architecture – a piece fit for the Greeks. 

“Hannibal, you drive me insane and keep me sane at the same time. I don’t know what you are, but whatever it is, I need it,” Will groaned in response, his eyes lidded shut and his face strained with pleasure. Hannibal let out an enthused sigh and claimed Will’s lips once more, groaning into his lips as he felt his cock brush against Will’s warm skin.

“I need you more,” Hannibal insisted gruffly, licking Will’s lips and biting them with animalistic roughness. Will groaned and bucked his hips onto Hannibal’s fingers.

Hannibal sighed in bliss, his precum oozing onto Will’s stomach as he continued to finger him. This relationship, however toxic and wrong it was, was all Hannibal had at the moment and it satisfied him. This was the first time in years that he had made love in earnest. He typically did it to get what he wanted.

This was entirely different for him. He was infatuated, stricken. He couldn’t function without Will anymore. He was his life.

“Hannibal, please,” Will whined, his legs wrapping around Hannibal’s spine, almost seeming as if he was afraid that letting go would cause Hannibal to disappear. In his mind, that wasn’t uncommon.

“Please what, Will? Say it. Beg me,” Hannibal purred, taking out his fingers and spreading Will’s legs. Will shivered at the feeling of vulnerability. He was spread wide open for a predator. However, Hannibal’s attitude, however animalistic, only displayed affection. He chastised himself for being afraid.

“You know what I want. You want it too,” Will responded, the arousal in his voice driving Hannibal insane. He nearly let it go at that, but he stopped himself, knowing that hearing Will plead would be far more rewarding.

“I want you to beg. I want to know you want it,” Hannibal crooned, licking the shell of Will’s ear and earning a shameless moan out of him.

“Oh God, Hannibal. Please fuck me! Please!” Will yelped, desperate desire apparent in his voice. Hannibal smirked from ear to ear, kissing Will’s forehead, before he spoke once more.

“Your wish is my command, Will. Are you ready?”

“Please, just hurry..”

Hannibal positioned himself, his hands ghosting over Will’s sweaty thighs, before finding Will’s hole and thrusting in slowly and tantalizingly. Will attempted to thrust his hips to meet Hannibal’s, however Hannibal tut-tutted and held Will’s hips in place.

“Will, we both know…hah…that we want this to last,” Hannibal reprimanded, arching his back and gripping Will’s thighs more tightly as his eyes screwed shut in pleasure. He caught a groan in his throat as he found himself entirely buried in Will.

“Hannibal, I’ve been wanting this for so long. It’s hard not to just indulge,” Will admitted breathlessly, wrapping his legs around Hannibal once more. His toenails scraped across the other’s spine, muscles tensing beneath them as Hannibal set a slow, yet deliberate pace. 

Hannibal bit his lip to stifle another moan and opened his eyes to watch Will beneath him. His eyes were half-lidded, gazing up at him. Hannibal hastily kissed him, his hands leaving Will’s lips to caress his face instead. He gently cast aside the curls that were matted to Will’s damp forehead and smiled, rolling his hips gently into Will’s. Although he wanted to be rough and dominate him, he wanted to savor this in case it never happened again. He feared that this would be the last time he would lie with Will like this.

“You’re so beautiful, Will,” Hannibal moaned into Will’s lips, his hair falling in front of his face. His eyes looked exposed and full of calamity. Will took notice of Hannibal’s vulnerability, and smiled, knowing that this would be a rare moment. At that point in time, they were entwined with mind and body. Although Will knew the danger that would come, he couldn’t dismiss how whole he felt.

“You’re perfect, Hannibal,” Will responded, sweat glistening on his pale body. Hannibal sloppily kissed Will, thrusting strongly into him. His muscles were tense, and his heart was racing, forcing fiery-hot ecstasy into his veins. It was so agonizing to restrain himself, but he already felt the sweet relief of their tangled bodies, and the thrill of feeling Will’s heart race, as if they were competing in some sort of race to the finish. However, Hannibal would not allow it to be a race.

He wanted to savor the taste of Will’s thrill, the salty sweat that was more delectable than any food he’d ever had the privilege to taste. It was a flavor that made his heart stop, made his legs quiver, made his mind race. His hands roamed all over Will’s body, memorizing every crevice, every curve, every dimple, every blemish, until he forgot himself.

 

He ignored the knot of energy accumulating inside his gut, feening to be released. He ignored everything but Will tightening against his cock, yielding to his power. He ignored the harsh, florescent lights shining on them. 

“Hannibal, I think I’m getting close,” Will moaned as Hannibal’s hand grasped at his throbbing, weeping cock.

Hannibal didn’t want it to end. He didn’t want to Will to dress and leave him alone with his thoughts. He wanted to be tangled with Will forever, his body pleasuring Will as much as Will’s mind pleasured him. He didn’t want to only be able to reminisce. 

“Me too. I love you Will. I love you so much,” Hannibal moaned, feeling his heart palpitate and the heat rise within his body, knot wound so painfully tight within the pit of his stomach that he felt as if he were about to snap. He grunted with each thrust, desperately needing the release.

“I love you too, Hannibal,” Will moaned, sinking his teeth into Hannibal’s shoulder to bite back a scream. 

And then it came in waves – pleasure so immersive that he scarcely perceived anything but Will’s voice and the seething tingling that swept over his body. He groaned, the low rumble husky and drawn out and breathed against Will’s flesh. Blood from his shoulder cascaded down and coated both of them, mixing into the puddle of fluids on the floor.

It was silent for a moment, save for their panting, before Will removed his teeth from Hannibal’s skin, his mouth coated with blood. Hannibal felt his heart skip as he saw the sight, and he impulsively kissed Will, hard and with passion. Will was pleasantly surprised, complacent as Hannibal cleaned his own blood off of the other man’s teeth.

When their lips parted, Hannibal rested his forehead against the other’s, still neglecting to pull out from Will. He felt a tear slip down his face, not unlike the tears of a man who had just seen God. 

“Hannibal…” Will began, but he had no words. There were insufficient words in the English language to do justice to his emotions. He had came to Hannibal’s home to relieve some stress and perhaps get some answers, but he instead realized with disdain that he was in love.

He was in love with Hannibal Lecter, the man who was undeniably handsome and loving, yet toxic in every way. It was inescapable.

“Will,” Hannibal responded, wiping his own tears away and stroking Will’s cheek with his thumb. Neither could say anything, but they both could feel naught but appreciation and adoration, if those were even words that could eloquently describe it.

“Did you mean it?” Will asked, his eyes travelling down Hannibal’s wet body, watching the perspire, blood, and cum drip off of his body almost gracefully. His muscles were taunt and he looked like a god among mortals.

“Of course I did, Will. I meant every word.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually don't enjoy writing smut, but it seemed to work in this context, right? I tried to make it less about the smut and more about the connection that they shared. I hope that's how it came off.


	7. An Unexpected Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the day after Hannibal and Will's passionate affair, Will is teaching in Quantico when he receives an unexpected visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, I hope you don't mind this shorter chapter. I try to keep the lengths consistent, but to no avail. 
> 
>  
> 
> Baroque guitar music is really helpful when writing fanfiction, actually. I don't know why more people don't use it as inspiration.

The next morning, Will was teaching in Quantico. His students could plainly see he was quite distracted, for he fiddled with his clothing, and his eye-contact even sparser than it usually was. His face was flushed and he stumbled over his speech, occasionally saying something that had nothing to do with what they were even supposed to be learning about. It was apparent that his thoughts were elsewhere.

Will loathed to admit it to himself, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Hannibal. When one of the murders that he knew Hannibal had committed came onto the screen, he felt his ears and face burning, his mind recycling through memories of the previous night and what had occurred during their passionate affair. He had to speak to Hannibal about what happened.

“This photo was shot near my home. Why do you think the crime was committed?” he cleared his throat, his gaze skimming around the room in search for a raised hand. To his relief, a few people had possible answers. 

“Yes?” he pointed to a blonde, whose hair was slicked back and eyes strikingly green. Will didn’t catch his gaze for long; for he was discomforted by the intense aura that he gaze off.

“I believe that the murder was premeditated. It’s too artistic to be a crime of passion, as it looks as if it were drawn out beforehand,” the boy noted, his tone quite formal and courteous. Will felt comforted by the small display of respect.

“Of course, but can you pinpoint the reason? Do you catch the symbolism?” Will inquired, hoping to further the young man’s thought-process. He heard someone walk in, standing beside the entrance, but he didn’t make a move to identify the newcomer. 

The boy squinted, focusing intently on the photo. Others raised their hands, eager to pick up their peer’s slack, but Will offered only a wave of dismissal. He wanted to hear this boy’s thoughts. Will knew very well what it had meant. The killer was expressing his profound love, just as he had the night before.

Will swallowed hard and willed the thought away.

“Well, I don’t quite see it,” the boy admitted. Will turned back to the photo of the murder, his heart racing as he recalled the thrill that he had felt when he empathized with Hannibal, his adrenaline surging as he watched the man’s life fade from him. He visibly shuddered.

“Take notice of the heart placed in the mouth of the body. Why would he deliberately leave only an organ that is metaphorically the center of all emotion and the symbol of love in its mouth? Well, I think this murder was a symbol of love. Also, take note of how the body was meticulously skinned, leaving nothing but the skeleton and the heart behind. Perhaps the murderer wants me to see nothing but his naked, exposed feelings. He is in love with me,” Will explained with absolute certainty. 

The room was eerily silent for a moment, and Will took the opportunity to glimpse over at the door. He was greeted with a knowing, wanton smile. Will gulped and redirected his gaze to the classroom, which continued to be dead silent.

‘Why did Hannibal have to come on the day I was talking about HIS murders?’ Will thought to himself, willing away the sexual feelings that rose within him.

Will continued on with his presentation, clicking the button on his small handheld remote, struggling to focus his attention on the job at hand and not strut right over to Hannibal and kiss the smug grin off of his beautiful face. 

A long-haired student raised his hand, a curious expression on his face. Will turned to him and gestured for him to move forward with his inquiry. 

“Mr. Graham, if this man was so obsessed with you, why didn’t he simply just take you? He obviously is capable of murder,” the boy questioned. He wasn’t the brightest specimen, but Will was obligated to answer the question. He glanced over at Hannibal, who had an expression of disgust on his face, and smirked before redirecting his gaze to the perplexed student.

“He is far more refined than that. Also, he is a predator in the sense that he thoroughly enjoys the chase more than the actual act of killing itself. He wants to chase me just as he chases his prey – patiently and passionately,” Will explained, taking a sweeping glance at the classroom to ensure there were no more questions. 

No one else dared raise their hand, for fear that they would hear something more disturbing. They were all silently unnerved by the fact that Will knew this killer’s desires so intimately. However, they really had no idea just how intimate Will actually was with this killer, nor did they know that that very murderer was standing off to the side, observing Will as he analyzed his murders.

Little did they know that Will was in love with a killer, and he was dismissing all sense that he had just to get a taste of him.

Will continued with his presentation, discussing trivial details about upcoming exams and the materials that were going to be on them. However, more often than not, he found his eyes wandering to Hannibal, whose permanent facial expression seemed to be a smirk that nearly drove Will insane. He barely maintained his composure until the ending of the class.

As the students filed out, Hannibal made his way in, his eyes glinting with dangerous, toxic love. Will swallowed hard, his eyes scanning over Hannibal’s lithe body. The graceful dancing of his gait almost led Will to believe there was music that he couldn’t hear. 

“I’m glad you came to visit me. It was good timing,” Will’s voice was a nervous squeak, and he cursed his weakness; his legs felt like jelly again.

“It’s my pleasure, Will. I do enjoy the artistry of your interpretations. Perhaps you should interpret more of this killer’s poetry,” Hannibal responded, his hand ghosting Will’s cheek and his breath hot against the other’s lips. He kissed Will, his tongue lightly grazing Will’s lips, slow, passionate and deliberate. Will snaked his hands around Hannibal’s hips, his soul seeming to mesh with Hannibal’s once more.

When Hannibal broke away, caressing Will’s cheek, there were a few moments of silence in which Will permitted Hannibal to look into his eyes. When Will gazed into Hannibal’s soul, he usually saw darkness and moral ambiguity. However, in this moment, all he saw was bliss and desire. Once again, he felt uncomfortably warm, and he could tell from Hannibal’s racing heartbeat that thudded against his chest that Hannibal was too. Despite this, neither would part from the other.

“I would love to. I enjoy his macabre expression. It’s quite avant-garde, but enjoyable nonetheless,” Will commented, licking his lips to savor the taste of Hannibal, who was having difficulty concealing his enthusiasm. 

“That’s a good way to describe it. Perhaps you would like to discuss this further over dinner?” Hannibal inquired, kissing Will’s knuckles flirtatiously. He was so undeniably interesting. 

“Perhaps. However, this time, we should probably do a little more talking than last time,” Will paused, the beginnings of a nervous chuckle resonating in his voice. “I’d say I’d come tonight, but unfortunately Jack has asked me to help Bev, Jimmy, and Brian at the lab. Tomorrow?”

Hannibal smiled and kissed Will’s forehead before pulling away from him.

“Tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at seven,” Hannibal replied. Will could hear the smile in his voice, and it made his heart soar.

He politely waved goodbye and Will felt an ache shoot its tendrils through his chest, oddly pleasant and uncomfortable at the same time. He began to gather his belongings to prepare for his departure, stuffing his reference books in his leather satchel. He couldn’t help but feel mesmerized by Hannibal, but he had to remind himself that this in itself was a treacherous path. 

He was sure he’d break it off before it got too serious, but every time he found himself ready to set boundaries, he melted and became putty underneath Hannibal’s skilled hands. He couldn’t help himself. He was infatuated and easily influenced; nearly anyone was malleable in Hannibal’s presence. He could make the most empathetic, kind, and morally-sound person become a ruthless murderer. It just depended on how badly he longed to break them. He fed off of distress.

Will walked out of the building, beginning his trip to the lab.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't wait to torture these characters even more, haha. I'm evil.
> 
> Leave comments, you guys! I don't bite! :)


	8. Burning Bridges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will has an infuriatingly awkward encounter with Beverly, Jimmy, and Bryan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I am so sorry for not updating. Everything in my life seems to be going wrong at once, but I finally found the time to finish this chapter. I will try VERY HARD to be more regular, I promise...

As Will made his way to the lab, he felt his stomach lurching, leaping within him as if it were screaming to abandon ship. Will didn’t blame it; after all, he was going to see Beverly at the lab after he had so passionately made love with Hannibal the night before. Not only would it be an uncomfortable moment anyway, but he intended to keep everyone in the dark about it. They knew that he had visited Hannibal last night, and they likely would be pestering him for answers. Hopefully, he would be able to persist. 

He walked inside, his hesitance clacking around the hallways, haunting him as he knew that it would be conspicuous that something happened. At this rate, Jimmy would be teasing him ceaselessly within the course of an hour. How delightful.

Their frenzied whispers from their workspace seemed quite overkill for typical work, so Will deduced that they had heard him enter and began making a scene to entice him. He stifled a sigh and continued onward, peering into the room in a manner that feigned interest. His entire body was already screaming at him to go home. He wrestled with the idea of succumbing to those urges and driving home while he was still able.

“Hey, Will! There’s the man we’ve been waiting for! How was Hannibal’s last night?” Jimmy asked with a wink, provoking a playful whap to the head from Bev. Will offered a tired smile in response.

“It was fine. We talked about the progress of my therapy over dinner,” Will lied, saying anything to avoid the same of admitting that he had slept with Hannibal and enjoyed it. 

Jimmy raised a suspicious eyebrow, the beginnings of a grin tugging at the sides of his lips, as if he knew something else was going on. Will felt his breath catch in his throat and his heart race. Admitting this would be admitting defeat. He had been trying to deny that he would end up with Hannibal for quite a while. In fact, he was still trying to deny it, even after he had slept with him and confessed that he loved him. He still clung to the hope that he would be able to end it and continue to deny that it ever happened. It wasn’t that he didn’t love Hannibal. No, it was that he had insisted to all of his work acquaintances that it would never happen.

Yet, it had. There wasn’t much left he could do to dispel the doubts now. 

“Sure, sure. Hannibal seemed too giddy today for you two to have just talked. Spill it,” Jimmy insisted, his grin seeming to spread further across his face with every word that he spoke. Will silently cursed Hannibal’s undeniable seduction before collecting his thoughts in order to offer a proper and convincing response.

However, he found himself miserably failing at best.

“It was a particularly stimulating therapy session. I think we made quite a bit of progress,” Will responded dryly, his throat seeming to contract around his own words. He knew, as soon as he said it, that it wouldn’t suffice.

“Simulating how? Sexually?” Brian joked, chuckling.

Will’s cheeks ignited with the fires of his embarrassment. He knew he had to retort quickly, or they would sense that that had stricken a nerve. He attempted to appear indignant.

“No, of course not! Mentally and emotionally. I think that I know myself better,” he stated, mentally pleading for them to relent. He didn’t want to deal with the incoming jaunts that were coming without a doubt. His cheeks continued to seethe at the thought. He was already embarrassed enough that they suspected something.

“Guys, come on; we have work to do. If Jack finds out we’ve been teasing Will about his love life when we’ve been told to work, we’re going to get our asses served to us on a silver platter,” Bev asserted, her voice sounding slightly bitterer than usual. A pang of guilt shot through Will as he realized that he had led her on only to find himself with Hannibal. Perhaps he could break it off if he acted quickly.

However, an overwhelming part of him screamed at the thought of such a thing. No, he couldn’t do that. Not only would it endanger Beverly, but he was quite sure he had feelings for Hannibal. He couldn’t deny that. Sure, he had feelings for Bev too, but being with Hannibal was different.

“Alright, alright, Bev. We’ll leave him alone. However, Will, as soon as we get things sorted out, you’ve got to tell me what actually went on between you two,” Jimmy insisted, winking at Will. Will shuddered with distaste and glanced over at the body lying on the table. It was cut open gruesomely, leading Will to believe that no artistry was involved. He scowled in distaste.

“What do you know about this guy?” Will muttered idly, his fingertips skimming the cold table beside him. He was only half invested in what happened, but it sure beat discussing his sex life with his three co-workers. 

Beverly huffed and paced over beside him, her eyes trained on the body like Will’s were. He felt the urge to apologize to her for possibly hurting her feelings, but that would only incriminate him. He was a reserved person anyway and preferred not to disclose his intimate relationships to those he wasn’t intimate with. It couldn’t be helped; an apology to Bev would only dig him deeper into guilt.

“He was stabbed. It was a standard, brutal murder. I’m not really sure why Jack is so concerned with this,” Beverly sighed, handing Will a case file, her tone far harsher than usual. Will’s chest ached as he opened the file, his mind meandering off elsewhere. He attempted to process the words on the page, but his mind was already overflowing, sending the words flying over his head. 

His thoughts were swarming with images of Hannibal, sensations from last night, sensations of guilt at upsetting Bev, sensations of embarrassment, and discomfort at the situation at hand. He was simply flabbergasted at the sheer amount of thoughts and feelings. He longed to just run off with Hannibal and lose himself in his presence once more.

He closed his eyes, sighing as he felt the dull ache continue to pulsate throughout him. He succumbed to the ache, allowing it to become him for a moment, successfully clearing his mind for a moment. He roamed through the dark creases in his mind where everything ceased, everything but his heartbeat, breathing, and the very dull ache that brought him there.

Satisfied, he opened his eyes and perused the file, an indifferent expression on his face as he scanned through the details. As Bev had pointed out, it was another messy, gruesome murder that most-likely was a crime of passion. He handed the file back to Bev, quietly thanking her for allowing him to read it.

“I’d agree with you there. Did you guys find anything of interest?” Will asked, his eyes gazing up at Beverly analytically. He had pushed aside all emotion for the moment, since he knew he would only get overstimulated by it. 

“Not particularly. I personally think the killer was just another angry person. They seemed to have just ran off afterwards, from what I gathered,” Jimmy replied, seeming a bit overwhelmed by the sudden animosity that came off of Beverly and Will in waves. 

“Maybe he just wanted to keep me busy,” Will mused, running a hand through his hair. He could have been at Hannibal’s house eating fine food and admiring Hannibal’s beauty. It was somewhat disappointing that he had been called here for something so trivial.

Jimmy sighed, obviously disgruntled by Will’s comment. Will couldn’t blame him, but he didn’t care about being rude to them at the moment. He wanted to escape so he could be alone to sort out his feelings. He didn’t want to display his cognitive dissonance to them.

“You could at least pretend to want to be around us, you know? All of this Hannibal stuff is making you distant from us,” Jimmy sighed, inspecting the body’s insides to find them all intact. Of course, it was standard to check, but they all knew it wasn’t a Ripper killing; it was too sloppy.

“I do enjoy being around you,” Will insisted, knowing that it wasn’t true at the moment. He typically loved being with them, but Bev was shooting daggers through him with her eyes and Jimmy and Brian were persistently pestering him about his love life.

“Not as much as you like being with Hannibal. You’re with him all of the time,” Beverly stated, her voice calm, yet harsh at the same time. Will nearly gritted his teeth to abstain from replying, knowing it would likely only enlarge the rift between them. It was something he didn’t feel like dealing with.

A stagnant silence sat on Will’s shoulders, seeming to stifle his breathing. He felt the pressure surrounding him. He was crushed by remorse and shame. He loved Hannibal so much, but he regretted harming Beverly like this. He could sense heartbreak radiating from her, and he wanted to reach out and take it away, but he could do naught; for it would only push her even further.

“Well, Will? What do you have to say for yourself?” Jimmy asked, his eyes betraying his disappointment. What could Will say to dismiss their doubts?

“I know I’m with him all of the time, and I’m sorry that offends you,” Will said plainly, his brain buzzing irately. His ears rung and he wanted to leave, but he had to finish the task at hand.

Will scrutinized the murder, but he couldn’t see much aside from the fact it must have been a bar fight gone horribly awry. He rubbed the bridge of his nose between his fingertips, wishing that there was some immersive work to get into so that he could evade Bev, Brian, and Jimmy. He simply wanted to go home.

“Is that all you have to say? You’re not going to defend yourself anymore?” Brian asked, somewhat appalled. He wasn’t truly invested in this conversation, but he hadn’t expected Will just to succumb that easily.

“No, because I know that we’ll all just fight and say things we don’t mean. I’m not choosing Hannibal over you guys, I promise. He’s just another friend to me – a friend that happens to call and pester me to visit more,” Will sighed, feeling the weighty warmth of a guilt and embarrassment cocktail swirling within his stomach. 

Hannibal had molded his mind into something that always worked in his favor. Will couldn’t resist the urge to pursue Hannibal relentlessly, for his mind, without fail, was swarmed with thoughts about him. Hannibal was the queen bee in his mental beehive, always asserting that the bees, his thoughts, must obey his every command. 

“Okay, I understand, but I want to talk about th-,” Jimmy started, his expression one of hurt.

“No, I don’t think you understand. I want to just get this over with. Describe to me more of the scene of the crime and why this is relevant to what we do here,” Will interrupted him. He was on the verge of just leaving. His veins pulsated with fiery, discomforting rage. His instincts were screaming with every loud, thudding heartbeat just to storm out of the building and go home.

Jimmy just stared at him, dumbfounded, before Bev stepped in to speak. She seemed to have gained a little bit of respect for Will because of how he had insisted that the topic be changed. A small smile tugged at her lips, playing across her features even though she tried to repress it. An inopportune chuckle escaped from her throat, causing her to throw her head back as she let it run free, echoing throughout the room.

“What?” Jimmy asked, his eyebrows furrowed. 

Will chuckled as well, his headache surging. He didn’t care; he wanted this tension to fade. He longed for things to be the way that they once were.

“That’s the Will I know. It was a bar fight, but apparently the way he was stabbed is reminiscent of another killer’s style. You know, the guy who left a present on a poor old man’s doorstep last week and gave him a near heart-attack? Yeah, that one,” Bev elaborated after her hysterical laughter had subsided. Even if Will had done something unspeakable, she couldn’t argue with him. Work was more important than petty arguments.

“It’s not him. I know that. The place he was found was far too unsophisticated for that killer. Although his style is messy, I am quite sure it’s not leave-bodies-outside-of-a-bar messy. Honestly, Jack needs to stop grasping at straws like this. The killer will show himself when he wants to be seen again,” Will sighed. Beverly nodded, concurring, as Brian and Jimmy stared, utterly flabbergasted.

There was a moment of awkward silence as Beverly noted Will’s analysis and put her notepad aside to give to Jack later. Will sighed, rubbing his neck, before he found himself gravitating towards the exit. Jimmy rolled his eyes.

“Well, are you going to explain yourself?” Jimmy’s tone was anticipatory, and it unnerved Will.

“Goodnight, all,” Will offered in response, waving his goodbye as he made his way outside and into the warmth of the summer night.


	9. The Predator Strikes Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal is flustered and murder seems like the best solution. After all, how else does one deal with sexual frustration?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. I've been going through a lot of stuff, but I always had this story on my mind, so don't worry about me forgetting about it!! Thank you so much for your support throughout the entire story!!!

As Hannibal drove away from the FBI building, he struggled to compose himself. Being around Will always filled him with a sort of inextricable thrill that was a ghost that frequented his mind. His aura of calm was disturbed by Will’s presence. He couldn’t help but obsess when he was without his presence, his aroma, his influence.

His blood seemed to betray him, seething so agonizingly beneath his skin with a heat that only served to attract him than repel him. It was a curse that he seldom experienced, but he couldn’t help it. Will was his beautifully unstable prey.

And he wasn’t going to let him make an escape.

He had seen Will leave to assist Beverly, Jimmy, and Brian, and it fed the monster of jealousy hidden within him. He was entitled to Will now – his prey, his thrill. His. Beverly was a laughingstock of a hunter when compared to Hannibal. He wasn’t afraid to strike for the throat. If she traversed any further into his territory, he would eviscerate her.

He outstretched a languid hand to turn on the radio, hoping the classical music would fill the void or cool the inferno surging within his veins. He hissed at the discomfort, listening to the piece that wafted from the radio – mellifluous and melancholy as it called to the open air. However, he felt it only slightly dull the scorching throb within him.

He hummed along quietly, having the piece committed to memory – Nielsen’s oboe Fantasy. It was a simple piece, but the first movement was etched into his brain. The simple, yet striking melody captivated him and perfectly suited some movements. The second movement was bouncy and happy, such a stark contrast to the first. However, it was still of interest and he felt it was expressive for what it was.

Why did it still persist even when his mind meandered elsewhere? Why couldn’t he cleanse himself of it like he did everything else? Why did only thoughts of Will remain? Was he doomed to this fate that was so cruel and unwavering in its punishment? He sighed, attempting once more to be absent from this reality, but it was to no avail. He yearned to escape, and he knew of only one means to do that aside from being in Will’s company.

Perhaps he could kill. He needed meat for his dinner with Will tomorrow, after all. It was quite the novel idea. What better way to seek reprieve than to break another’s body, mind, and will? He failed to see anything that could improve upon the notion of murder.

His mind strayed to Beverly, but he dismissed the thought; it would be far too suspicious for her to end up dead now. All good things came to those who waited, he reminded himself. He would have her head in good time. She would be quite delectable. Perhaps he would serve her as “veal” scaloppini in cream sauce. He’d serve her to Will and see how he thought she tasted. What a delightful thought!

A smirk tangoed across his lips, pompous and devious. The smile itself revealed his true nature: malicious, predatory, and controlling. He thought himself to be the rawest form of human, experiencing emotions and acting upon impulse with disregard for morality. He presented himself to be a morally-upstanding being, but behind the veil, he was a joyous sinner. He didn’t think of himself that way. He was a superior being that was beyond those societal standards. He did what he wanted and he had no remorse. He knew himself far better that way.

His hands gripped the steering wheel and he straightened himself out, rolling his neck as he poised himself more properly. He imagined he were a hawk, talons outstretched as he redirected his driving path from his home to a restaurant he knew his next victim frequented. The timing was perfect as well. The man was a rat, scuttling pathetically in attempts to escape his razor-sharp talons as they closed around his throat. Hannibal shuddered in pleasure. He felt the exhilaration cascade over him and he lost himself in it for a moment, parking his car in the lot and shutting the door. The summer night enveloped him in warmth, but the cold relief of hunter’s thrill seemed to cancel all exterior stimuli.

His shoes clacked against the pavement, resolute and strong. His persona was as cold as his insides and his eyes seemed to shine. He exuded the charm needed for the actions that he would execute next.

The Lounge loomed ahead of him. It was far too casual for his tastes, but he knew a rude fellow who frequented here. He had trailed him before, but quickly lost interest in him after instead opting for a different pursuit.

Inside, the air conditioned, chemically-primed air was beginning to be tinged with a hint of cheap alcohol. Hannibal resisted the urge to turn up his nose and leave, for he knew that it would be worth it. His body lurched with hunger, but he managed to retain coolness.

“Would you like to sit by the bar, or in the restaurant side?” a man clothed in a plain uniform asked. He had soft, cordial brown eyes and a fake smile plastered on his face. Hannibal resisted the urge to retch in his mouth.

“Restaurant, please,” his victim would be on the bar side. Stalking from afar was the way of a true predator. The chase was just as alluring as that elusive catch. This time, thought, he aimed more so to let off steam rather than get food.

“Right this way,” the sickeningly chipper man chimed, pep in his step as he led Hannibal to a seat that hugged the wall. Hannibal was pleased by the dimmed lights in the establishment. Even if he found it to be unsophisticated and bland, the lighting was at least to his liking. He loathed the fact that he was likely going to have to settle for a burger, but he couldn’t complain. After all, this subpar meal would eventually lead to one that was far more satisfying.

“Your waiter will be right over,” the host assured him, the same plastic smile so ungracefully smeared onto his face. Hannibal once again had to remind himself not to retch. 

He lifted the menu that the host had left, his eyes only skimming the menu to feign interest, before he found himself surveying the bar to watch all of the middle-aged men drink themselves into an idiotic stupor. He internally scoffed at their reckless self-destructive behavior. Upon looking further, he spotted what he wanted.

He was amongst the middle-aged men, raucously swinging around in his chair to speak with anyone who lent an ear. His bald head glistened in the dull light, and Hannibal found himself nearly salivating at the thought of sinking a blade into it, his surgical precision aiding him as he meticulously spared the best parts of the brain for a nice, fatty meal. He tore his eyes away from the man and redirected his gaze to the menu. He had barely been looking long enough for any of the simpletons in the restaurant to notice.

He decided upon a plain cheeseburger and fries and decided to only order a water. He set down the menu and allowed his eyes to wander once more to his future victim. His rude, disrespectful behavior towards all of those around him ignited a ravenous fury within Hannibal that he seemed to feel so often lately. It no longer felt like a foreign sensation.

He was once more in the rhythm of the hunt, his blood running cold and his body taunt in readiness for his pounce. He would sink his claws and teeth into that man soon. After his meal, he would act. The man was too inebriated to even be aware of where he was going, and the other men seated around him didn’t appear to be friends; he was so drunk that he was annoying the other drunk men around him. How pathetic. And the man thought himself a socialite?

Hannibal didn’t even try to repress the snicker that rose within his throat. He redirected his gaze to the menu, but only to divert suspicion and not make it seem as if he was practically drooling over the thought of eating the man. He supposed that no one would be able to see his thoughts, but he didn’t want to come off as a maniac. He already didn’t appear to fit in because of his formal attire.

A waitress came by and took his order, but her face betrayed that she was doubting that he belonged there. He was doubting it himself. She must have been used to rude simpletons, for when he thanked her, however shallow it may have been, she appeared to be surprised. He mentally noted to leave her a decent tip.

She returned with his water a few moments later, but he wasn’t focused on it. He thanked her once more as she left and idly sipped from the glass, the cold lightly stinging at his fingers. His eyes once more wandered to his future victim. If his food would just come, perhaps this carnal desire to rip the man to shreds would wane slightly. However, to his annoyance, the restaurant was busy enough that it was possible that it would take quite a while for his food to be done. The most infuriating part was that it was a simple burger. However, his emotions were but a pesky gnat above his head; they could be fought down with a single swat. 

Eventually, his food came and he ate, seeming overly polite to most around him. He supposed that the fact that they were so damn bothered by his manners said quite a bit about how people were being raised nowadays. It was odd to be old enough to think such a thing. 

As he ate, he stole glances over at the bar, being careful to look only when people weren’t watching. He was simply monitoring his prey’s movements to determine whether the man was about to depart or not. Hopefully, he would be done just after the time that he finished his food, but he knew that it might not be that simple. He tried to eat slowly and match the man’s pace, eating more as he saw that he became more intoxicated. It was an intricate dance that was more difficult to execute on Hannibal’s end because he was dancing with an uncoordinated fool. It was undignified, but that was what had to be done if he wanted to humiliate his prey. 

He noticed a change of pace in the man’s behavior and he discreetly waved down a waitress so that he could have the check. Her expression betrayed that she was feeling quite pressured by the current caliber of her work, so he made things quick and tipped her generously enough. He left a few minutes before the man as to not arouse suspicion and he got in his car to wait, pretending to be ransacking his glovebox for something. Through his peripheral vision, however, he remained attentive in waiting for his prey. He would strike so mercilessly.

The man staggered out, clearly too drunk to drive, and ignited his engine. Hannibal took out something, pretending it was what he was looking for, and made motions to ignite his own. He found himself pursuing his prey by car – an unnatural, yet still suspenseful way to chase. Perhaps it dragged it on longer and allowed his prey to be lulled into a false sense of safety. However, he doubted that the man would be able to make it home, considering his inebriated state. The road alongside him seemed to crawl by so torturously, but he didn’t break a sweat, for he was calm and cold. It was all he really could be.

The classical music in his car began to swell as Hannibal found himself stopping his car behind the other man’s. He had somehow scarcely managed to hit the breaks before hitting a tree. Hannibal felt himself almost smirk. How pitiful. 

Hannibal observed with interest as his prey clambered ungracefully out of its car, falling to the ground, its shoulders heaving and its body quivering. The man had begun to drown himself in a pool of his own shame and alcohol. Hannibal imagined that the smell would be horrendous and considered abandoning his hunt, but he supposed he was in too deep now to just duck out. He opened the door of his car with unrivaled grace, his feet almost dancing toward his target, who was now unconscious. Perfect. Hannibal removed a cloth from his pocket and used it to prevent leaving fingerprints as he dragged the man aside. He would kill him and clean him up in the desolate area not far beyond the thin layer of foliage that he currently stood beside. However, he wanted his victim to be awake. He wanted to smell his fear radiating off of him.

Once Hannibal had dragged him to a more suitable place, he went back to his car and grabbed the plastic suit that he almost always kept inside of it now. He killed so frequently that he felt almost attached to the garb that he donned while doing it. It was like his armor.

He grabbed it, carrying it so that the rare roadgoer would not see it. Once he found himself blanketed by the shade of the trees and bushes around him, he put it on, smacking his victim awake. He imagined the plastic felt foreign and unnatural to his skin, but that soon would be the least of his worries.

“Hhhnn..what the fuuuuuuuck do you want?” the man grumbled groggily, his eyes fluttering open as his body reacted to the odd stimuli it was receiving. Hannibal realized that the man had no idea where he was. How unfortunate.

Hannibal offered no answer but the abrupt movement and the seizing of the man’s neck. Oh, how he wished he didn’t have them cloaked in plastic so that he could better feel the pulsating veins slowly give out beneath him, succumbing to his will. He watched, riveted, as the man struggled drunkenly. Not a unique reaction, but still captivating nonetheless. Death was beautiful to Hannibal, just as life was. He found all aspects of existence to be equally marvelous. 

The man’s eyes looked to him pleadingly, but Hannibal felt nothing but serenity as he sapped the life of another man. The unfortunate soul seemed to grapple for it, but naught could escape Hannibal’s keen eyes and razor talons. He was a predator, but one that killed for the sake of watching his prey move. He was an observer, and so he observed as the man in his arms slowly went limp. He licked his lips, slowly, yet deliberately, moving his hands from the man’s now-still neck. No pulse. The job was done.

And so, the predator and stricken again.


	10. Conflicted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will has to visit Hannibal later that day, but he finds that he is being simultaneously destroyed and protected by Hannibal. What can he possibly do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! A semi-regular update! I hope that you enjoy this new chappy-chap!!

Will had spent the entire day with conflicted feelings. His encounter with Bev, Brian, and Jimmy had really shook his confidence in what he was doing with Hannibal, and the fact that he was seeing him again tonight was somewhat daunting. He knew that these thoughts would likely disappear when he was with him, leaving him cloudy-headed and willing to comply with almost anything that Hannibal said, but he still couldn’t shake these thoughts. He needed to set boundaries with Hannibal, because his bonds with him were ruining his life. He was admiring a stalker and a murderer, for God’s sake. This wasn’t a game of cat and mouse anymore.

Even as he worked, his mind felt as if it were cascading down a waterfall that swept him away from the waters of reason. He found himself becoming useless to Jack, which had infuriated him. What was he becoming? His thoughts all seemed to be hallucinations or fantasies about Hannibal anymore. This obviously wasn’t good for him.

“Will, do you need a break from work? You aren’t looking too good,” Jack’s voice penetrated his reverie and he found himself looking over from the corpse in front of him and then back to Jack. He knew something was going wrong. 

‘It’s your fault. I wouldn’t have met him if you wouldn’t have made me speak to a therapist, Jack,’ his thoughts seemed to scream. If only Jack would have been able to hear.

Will gave a hefty sigh and threw his hands up, as if in defeat, and then allowed his left to drop and his right to run anxiously through his hair, which was frizzy and unruly today. It felt coarse and greasy against his fingers. He hadn’t showered last night and it must have showed. It didn’t help his situation that he had had nightmares all night last night.

“Jack, receding into my antisocial hole in my house isn’t going to help me at all. The murder isn’t really the problem right now. In fact, I can scarcely focus on it,” Will admitted, shaking his head.

It was Hannibal, how those skilled hands had touched him with such precision, and how those cold eyes showed the smallest glint of vulnerability for those torturous moments of passion. How could he break away? Even now, Hannibal’s presence haunted him. 

The smell of sweat, the smell of sex. Even now, he couldn’t shake how Hannibal had smelled when he was worked up like that. He couldn’t shake any part of Hannibal from him. He was captivated by Hannibal’s entire existence. For now, he would allow himself to go with it, but he had to find a way to rid himself of this infatuation soon if he wanted to make it out of this alive.

“Well, figure out your problem and solve it then, Will!” Jack’s voice was firm. Will almost winced, but he had become immune to it by now. He simply nodded and then turned back to the body, which had appeared to have been strangled and had its organs harvested postmortem. 

“The toxicology report found that the man was quite intoxicated and had taken a Tylenol, but that’s about all that we found,” Jimmy chimed from behind them.

Will nodded, taking in the man’s condition. It appeared that this killer had abhorred this man’s drunken behavior and found it to be primitive. This murder almost screamed its owner’s name, and Will almost sighed in frustration. Will wished that Hannibal would stop this. Although he found his murders to be beautifully striking, it would be quite suspicious if murders kept appearing on his doorstep.

“May I see photos of the crime scene, Jack? Will asked, outstretching his hand so that Jack could place the photos in his hand. He would have to see it to be sure, and he didn’t want to miss anything that Hannibal could have possibly left for him. 

Jack nodded curtly and handed Will the photos. Will, still hazy-minded, grasped the photos and brought them closer to his face, his eyes scanning over them. It was definitely Hannibal. There was no mistaking the aura of shame that had surrounded the victim. He handed the photo back to Jack wordlessly as he gazed at the body for another moment. Why did he love someone that loved to harm others? 

“It’s the Ripper,” Will finally growled after a few moments of stifling silence. He glanced over and saw Jimmy eyeing him in an odd fashion. He dismissed it, for it was probably about what happened in the lab in the day previous.

Jack nodded, sighing before walking off to go pace angrily somewhere. Everyone was stressed enough. From Jack’s expression, Will imagined that he had already figured it was the Ripper, but he had almost hoped that it was just another copycat. Will was certain that it was Hannibal. He could just turn to Jack and tell him right now. It would be both simultaneously beneficial and treacherous for him. There was no winning. 

Either way, Will wasn’t going to seek Jack out, for he knew that if he did he was likely to receive the most aggressive lecture of his life. He glanced over at Jimmy, his eyes skimming his features for a moment, avoiding the eyes as much as possible, to determine what he was thinking. It seemed he was still quite bitter about what had conspired.

“I’m sorry for what happened yesterday, Jimmy. I was just tired and I didn’t want to deal with it,” Will apologized, his eyes cast towards his boots. He realized, with disdain, that they were begging for a shining. He made a mental note to do so later.

Jimmy seemed to be rooted in place, his facial expression exaggerated and statue-esque – typical. His eyes were narrow and his lips drawn in a scowl. Will avoided directly meeting his eyes, but not because he was lying. Perhaps that was why he was skeptical; Will always appeared to be lying. He did regret what had happened, and he was even reconsidering if his relationship with Hannibal was worth all of this agony and loss. It was unfortunate that he always seemed to covet the things he shouldn’t have.

“Well, I’d like some honesty from you for once. Ever since Hannibal came into your life, you’ve been neglecting your other friendships more and more. Just tell me; are you with him or not?” Jimmy asked, his expression fading from skepticism to anticipation, as if he would simply cease contact with him if he didn’t answer. The prospect prompted a small pang of panic within his chest, but he tried to reason with it. After all, he was growing weary of being bothered to be friendly at certain times. 

But other things made him not want to just let go of this friendship. What could he do?

“I don’t really know. Maybe I am, maybe I’m not,” he said vaguely. His statement held honesty, though. What Hannibal and Will were was complex. They were intertwined, yet not. They were close, yet distant. They were the same, yet they were polar opposites. They were colors that, when blended together skillfully, compose a lively symphony on a canvas. They thrived off of each other’s company, but they were slowly killing each other.

However, that was something that many others could not understand. Jimmy was one of those. It wasn’t that he was a dullard, rather that this was something that only Hannibal and Will could comprehend. Their elaborate world was esoteric. Only those who were intricately woven into their web could understand how they had managed to catch themselves in their own creation, dooming both of them to demise by their own disease.

Jimmy seemed to be disappointed by the answer, interpreting it as if Will was only offering a pitiful attempt to dance around the subject. However, Will was more graceful than that. He had to be.

As Jimmy turned away from Will with a sigh, Will’s feet began moving on their own, as if magnetically repelled from Jimmy. It was unfortunate, but it happened. What more could be said to remedy this? He had offered his honesty and Jimmy had misinterpreted it. He wandered off, seemingly drawn towards the shooting range. He didn’t know why, but his recent encounters with Hannibal’s design made him aroused, uneasy, and conflicted. He felt like a walking contradiction.

Hannibal was tearing him apart. He had to set boundaries at some point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At least Will isn't following Hannibal blindly. He is wary of him, but he needs him at the same time.


	11. Cut The Losses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Hannibal's dinner doesn't go quite as Hannibal had planned for it to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry in advance for the angst. I tried to warn people.

“I have to say Hannibal, this meal tonight is particularly delicious,” Will offered, meeting Hannibal’s eyes with an inferno raging within that would only be satisfied if it devoured the other. His voice sounded wispy, as if a feather drifting idly in the winds of a sunny day in the moist swelter of the July sun.

However, this was a meal too macabre to call a family picnic.

Will’s stomach churned, the reality rolling in on itself in his guts; they were the same as the guts in front of him that he was currently eating. He tried to ignore that he was eating one of his own kind, but no matter how delicious it tasted, his mind couldn’t help but wander to the facts of it, twisting and grinding its own wheels every which way until Will didn’t know which way his moral compass pointed – back towards home, or towards this man that tempted him with class and taste unrivaled by any other?

“Why, thank you. It’s always a pleasure to have you for dinner, Will,” Hannibal met Will’s eyes, the maroon seeming to run like blood - the same blood in Will’s veins and the man that had ended his unfortunate dance with fate at Hannibal’s ruthless hand. He imagined the faraway, bloodlustful look in those astute, curious eyes. 

Will’s gaze traveled to Hannibal’s lips, which were artfully stretched into a foxy grin, incisors showing as if to demonstrate how he and he alone could be the dominant one in the room. Will’s heart lurched as he saw the tip of Hannibal’s tongue sneak over those pointed wonders, sweeping over them in one fell motion. He had noticed. Of course he had.

Will had caught the implication of Hannibal’s statement, and he was yet again conflicted about whether he should feel disgusted, aroused, or simply pleased. He decided to not give his emotions conscious thought at the moment. He knew it would be a mistake – perhaps a fatal one – but he would decidedly pay it no mind at the moment. He would enjoy what the night had to offer, for that is what Hannibal had planned in the first place.

Hannibal’s piercing eyes seemed to cling to Will, as if prodding for a further response. He was leaned forward, ever curious with his eyes and ears open to whatever his dear William had to say. He was always a hawk on his perch, ever vigilant and receptive. Will visibly shivered and averted his eyes. Hannibal returned his attention to his half-eaten plate, savoring the taste as if it would be his last. 

Tingles started in Will’s fingertips, snaking their way throughout Will’s body and contorting his body into yet another uncomfortable shudder. He had tried to repress it, but the result was just even more discomfort. Was he cold, or was he simply feeling too conflicted? He was even conflicted on the answer, so he assumed that it was more likely to be the latter. How convenient. 

“Are you cold, Will?” Hannibal asked, the words escaping his lips, feigning concern when their intent was clearly to prod and poke Will. Although he loved Will, his inquisitive nature always got the best of him. 

Hannibal observed as Will pondered how to respond to the question. His eyes trailed Will’s, becoming intertwined with him. He felt the beauty of his humiliation, the flustered heat conjugating in his pale cheeks, the search for answers upon inanimate surfaces that would not offer any assistance. Hannibal felt it all, and he yearned to feel more. His body and mind seethed with a hunger that couldn’t be tamed. Its fire only scorched larger paths within him. 

“I’m fine,” Will offered, not knowing what to say. His body ached for Hannibal’s touch, but his mind reprimanded him to maintain a distance. He was making love to danger, a fluid dance that could leave him blue and cold with one wrong move. He had to be graceful in his backward and forward steps, for a hasty movement could allow him to trip up and fall into the arms of death and despair.

“You’re quiet this evening, Will. Are you thinking about the murders again, my dear?”

Hannibal’s low voice seemed to echo through the walls of Will’s mind, effectively numbing him into a stupor as usual - the clicks of his teeth, rhythmic and steady like a metronome, the lowest tones that of a baritone droning on, as if its tone were that of a student who had only memorized the technique and not worked to understand the emotional impact that it should have. In some ways, that’s what Hannibal truly was, but he was a master at being able to memorize technique and execute it with accuracy. 

“Always.” Will’s answer wasn’t untrue, however his area of thinking was far more specific than the broad area of murder. 

“Would you like to talk about it?”

Will knew it was more of a polite way of demanding for him to speak. Of course, the topic would resurface even if he declined.

“I would hate to talk about the killer as if he isn’t here,” Will challenged before taking another bite of his food, chewing slowly as if to accentuate his point. In response, Hannibal just smiled proudly, his lips scarcely parted. Will wished he could pry them open to hear every secret, but Hannibal locked everything away so meticulously and kept his act clean.

“You described it as beautiful.”

“Tragically so.”

“What struck you most profoundly, Will?” his tone betrayed his genuine curiosity, but this time it was deliberate; Hannibal would never allow something to be so obvious without reason. 

“The fact it was in front of my house,” Will answered honestly, a pitiful chuckle choking out in his throat. He knew that, by talking about it in such a fashion only served to associate murder with romance in his mind. He wagered he was already warped enough and he didn’t need anything to make his mind any more twisted. 

Hannibal repressed a frown at being shut down and leaned forward a little, studying Will’s expression. Something was causing him to have inhibitions. He would have to breach the topic eventually. He would do so as he usually did; in a meticulously thought-out dance, tiptoeing into difficult territory with words until he could coerce Will to take the lead. It was more satisfying that way.

“And why do you think the killer did that?” Hannibal prodded. Perhaps Will’s fury would be ignited and he would spit the words at him. It wasn’t as if the fury would matter. Any cognitive dissonance he had would need to resolve eventually.

Will’s fingers gripped the cold cutlery in his hands a little tighter. Hannibal’s eyes didn’t leave Will for a moment, soaking up the way his hands shook with the amount of energy it took to refrain from having an outburst, the way that his chin protruded out slightly, his lips pursing into an uneven line, the way his eyes lingered on his dinner for a moment. Hannibal’s eyes traced the hard, masculine lines of Will’s body and took note of his posture. Will was both enamored and frustrated by Hannibal’s watchful eye.

They both knew the game by heart now. One noise from Will and Hannibal would be able to come in for the kill. 

“Because he wants me to know that that murder was for me. He loves me and wants to offer his true self to me, since he believes I’m someone who has the potential to see it,” Will replied, his eyes seemingly glued to his nearly-empty plate. He speared the last bite with his fork and languidly brought it to his mouth, chewing almost warily. Hannibal’s eyes hadn’t strayed from him yet.

Their conversations were so often like this – the silences that were heavy with mutual knowledge only punctured by short staccato bursts of conversation that only served to add weight to the silence. Hannibal tended to force on more and more weight just to watch everything break and spiral out of control. Will always had to be the one to explode and put things back together himself. He assumed guilt while Hannibal sat back and observed him.

“And will you respond to his gift with acceptance, rejection, or indifference? You are already aware that you can see who he truly is, but will you continue looking, or will you turn away while you still know how to?” Hannibal pressed further – more weight to the silence. 

Will was bending, so close to his breaking point that he could feel his insides splintering like a plank of wood refracted too far. He didn’t want to allow this to happen again. He didn’t want to either yell at Hannibal or embrace him right now, but he was being screamed at by all of the voices in his head to do both. He didn’t want this. He yearned to feel one way or another, but his moral compass was so twisted that he couldn’t even read it anymore. Hannibal had done this to him. 

Will set down his fork, his clothes seeming too tight and the room seeming to refract around them, as if reality itself only consisted of Hannibal. He felt magnetized to him, but he was at a loss for what to say or do, and he knew that he was in too deep with this. Why was he the way he was?

“Hannibal,” was all that came out of his mouth. He couldn’t return his gaze, but Hannibal had grown used to that by now.

The conflicted tone of his voice was enough for Hannibal to gather what information he needed. Will needed him in some way, but something was telling him to stay away. Hannibal managed to remain calm and act as if he hadn’t come upon this revelation. If Will knew, he would skitter away and the game would be over. He had to truly catch his prey if he wanted to enjoy it.

“Will.”

The response was so simple, and yet it held all of the answers. Will could see beyond Hannibal’s veil. He wished that neither of them had seen anything, but there was nothing he could do to take it back. However upset Hannibal may have been, he would deal with it, right? He always did. Will hoped it wouldn’t end in someone getting killed.

“I don’t know what I want, Hannibal. I don’t know,” Will admitted, hoping that a verbal admission would help the situation. It was a desperate attempt to save this trainwreck.

“Perhaps you should have thought before you acted so prematurely,” Hannibal remarked simply. He was, admittedly, a tad bit upset, but he still enjoyed testing Will to observe how he reacted. It was just the way that he was, and he had no intention to change that.

Will felt humiliation and shame sweeping over him, widespread and profound. He now truly did want to take it all back, but what could be done? There was no lie that he could tell that Hannibal wouldn’t see through. There was naught he could do to retract his statement, and he hated how Hannibal could appear so calm even at a time like this. He hated it. He hated everything. However, he also loved it. He loved how Hannibal could be so calm and how his calm was sometimes contagious and he could lose himself in his presence. He loved how Hannibal could see his emotions and help his reason through them.

He needed Hannibal; he wanted Hannibal; but this was going to be his demise, or perhaps someone else’s. The entirety of their relationship thus far had just been one collective mistake that only grew larger as it fed off of Will’s dependency and guilt. Hannibal was that mistake; he was that monster.

“I still meant everything I said to you.” It wasn’t a lie. He loved Hannibal.

“Likewise,” the answer came somewhat harsh, but Will supposed that it was only because Hannibal didn’t know how else to be in that moment.

There was another heavy silence before Will broke. He stood from his chair, cleaning off his plate before putting it away so Hannibal could wash it later, and then made his way back over to Hannibal. He made eye-contact, as if to show that he meant what he was about to do, and then leaned over, a hand reaching to caress Hannibal’s cheek, and kissed him with fervor. They both savored it, their bodies and minds melting and melding into one another for those fleeting moments. The kiss was like the most profoundly riveting art – intensely meaningful on the surface, yet even more so if the symbolism was understood by the observer.

When Will pulled away, his eyes fluttered open, locking with Hannibal’s once more. A blaze seemed to be seething within both of them, ravenously devouring all unfortunate things that seemed to be in its path. This was as much of a goodbye as it was an apology. 

They both knew they couldn’t survive separation, and yet, they knew they wouldn’t survive being together. Their passion would engulf everything, even them, in flames until they crashed and burned into nothing but ashes blown to the wind by circumstance, scattered so far apart that they wouldn’t even be themselves anymore. They had to escape the fires while they still had the chance.

But, Hannibal didn’t care. He would have accepted his demise as it would have come. His world was more entertaining that way. He wasn’t like Will in that way. He didn’t flee so that he could have the illusion of stability. He couldn’t resent Will for doing so. 

“Goodbye, Hannibal,” Will managed, his voice scarcely audible, but Hannibal picked it up with ease. 

He wouldn’t say goodbye. He simply stood to be beside Will.

His strong arms snaked around Will’s waist. Will was vaguely aware of the fact that the same arms that had comforted him had been one of the last things that Hannibal’s victims had felt around their body.

Will longed to go back in time and tell Jack that he wanted to see a different therapist. He longed to go back in time and stop the therapy sessions as soon as he had felt any inklings of attraction to Hannibal. He longed to erase all of his mistakes leading up to this moment, but he knew that, somehow, he would meet Hannibal either way. Something told him that it would have happened, no matter how the world decided to get them together. It was fate, and it was cruel.

A hand slithered up Will’s spine, ghosting its way over his body and finding its place in his hair and toying with it. Will scarcely repressed the shiver that had begun at the source of the tingling sensation. He still felt the urge, like shockwaves in his body that radiated from his chest, to his stomach, to even his fingertips. This torture would never end, he realized. He would always, even after he separated himself from Hannibal, feel ghosts of moments like this haunting him, reminding him of how Hannibal’s body had fit so perfectly against his, how Hannibal’s gracefulness even translated to how he handled Will like a fragile teacup, how Hannibal’s dark maroon eyes never failed to simultaneously mesmerize and perplex him. 

Will could have cried into Hannibal’s shoulder as he had done so many times before, but he managed to hold himself together. At least, he thought he did. Although, they both knew that any attempts to hide things would be fruitless as this point in time; they knew each other far too well.

When they pulled away from each other, they both felt incomplete and dizzy. Hannibal managed to maintain his dignity and balance, but Will stumbled away, feeling the shame and the daggers that were Hannibal’s eyes piercing through his heart. The pain nearly brought tears to his eyes and he wanted nothing more than to just leap back into Hannibal’s arms, apologize, and promise not to think about leaving their love behind, but he couldn’t. He knew that this decision would have very negative consequences, knowing Hannibal, but he had to save himself while he could. This was agonizing.

Each painstaking step sent needles through every part of his body. He felt his emotions bleeding through him, sweat beading on his palms from the agony – familiar, yet all too frightening at the same time. His emotions could easily spiral out of control as they typically did, and he wouldn’t have Hannibal to save him this time. 

He made it out of the door, and the cool nighttime air was harsh and unforgiving, as if chastising him for what he had become. He didn’t even attempt to reason with it. He just made his way to his car, his throat tight and his chest felt as if Hannibal had stabbed him multiple times. He’d almost rather have Hannibal stab him than have this. This was more agonizing than any physical pain that he could have possibly felt at any point in his life.

He drove home, unaware of the chaos that was soon to come.


	12. Reflection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal reflects on what just occurred. He realizes that he cannot survive separation from Will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is shorter, but I figured that it would be worthwhile to write all the same.
> 
> Please enjoy angst-y Hannibal!!

As Hannibal watched Will walk out to his car, he wasn’t sure of how to feel. A large part of him was entertained, but he felt the demeaning sting of rejection. He did not display it openly, for he wouldn’t embarrass himself, but if Will would have turned to look, he would have likely seen the anguished glint in his dark eyes. The one person who knew him and saw him had seen too much. He had yearned for a companion like Will, and now there was naught he could do to reel him in once more. Anger seethed through him as he realized what had likely occurred. It wasn’t entirely Will’s decision, was it? 

Someone had to have influenced him, and he knew on one woman who could have possibly had a motive. She wanted Will to herself.

Beverly Katz. 

The sound of the door shutting caused Hannibal to snap awake, as if he had once again reverted to his predatory state. He would have his Will back, even if it meant that he would sacrifice so much that he had worked for. He would give his freedom if only to lure Will back in once again. Will was much more than mere prey to him, but he had to go about it this way.

He had to do it. Perhaps not tonight, but soon. He would stalk and strike as he had done so many times before, however he would do it with the most flair that he ever had. This had to be a moving piece of art with skillful strokes that would move his dear William to tears. Perhaps when he had nothing left, he would realize that Hannibal would be the constant in his life – the stability he so desperately desired. If anyone could be that for Will, it was him – not Beverly. Will was his.

He stalked over to his harpsichord, hoping to play the pain away. Although he would not openly display it, he was in bitter agony. It pulsated in his chest and shot through every vein – a slow, throbbing venom that forced Hannibal to clench his teeth behind his closed lips. He did not make a single noise as he sat on the plush bench before his instrument, poising his fingers at the keys. His body ached with each thrum of his steady heart, but he did not allow himself to wallow. It would have been undignified. 

His finger tapped a key experimentally. He hadn’t yet decided what he wanted to play, but as he improvised a little, he found himself gravitating towards an A. Scarlatti Sonata.

He took a deep breath and began to play. The numbness washed over him as the music embraced him, shrouding his mind and body in the blissful blankness that he needed. He closed his eyes and allowed his fingers to roam. He had memorized this piece long ago. Although he typically preferred Bach, A. Scarlatti’s pieces had a certain chaos that appealed to him in that moment. 

The music seemed to reverberate off of the walls of his mind, driving away whatever other thoughts seemed to linger. As the last note sounded, the twang of the string seeming to echo for longer than he had ever observed before, his eyes fluttered open. He allowed a single tear to escape from his eyes, cascading down his cheeks. 

He paused for a moment, slowly shifting his gaze to the door that Will had opened. Hannibal could still smell Will's cheap aftershave in the house. It threatened to bring more tears to his eyes, but he somehow managed to refrain from allowing it to escape. His gaze traced up the length of the door before traveling down once again to rest on the doorknob. Will’s hands had rested upon that. Hannibal ached for his hands to be where Will’s were. His body screamed out for Will’s touch. He had become dependent, which was something he had not intended. This flame within him had blazed beyond the path that he had originally set out for it to. He now felt the searing pain, as if it were swallowing him too.

He was left in the ashes while Will had made his timely escape from Hannibal’s destruction. Will should have known that there were things about Hannibal that couldn’t have changed. Will was allowed glimpses into Hannibal’s true self, and he must not have liked what he found. Why did that hurt?

He stood, his steps slow and deliberate as he made his way towards the door, careful to take the same strides that Will had moments earlier. He deeply inhaled his scent, reminiscing upon better times than this. Any time that they had had was better than this. 

As he neared the door, he slowly reached for the doorknob, feeling himself fade into Will’s existence as he placed his hand where Will’s had been. He gazed in the direction that Will’s car had driven, feeling his entire being quiver.

In his eyes were maroon stairways spiraling down into the chaos and secrets that were all stowed away behind them – secrets dyed in the same bloody color that his eyes were, and Will knew them all. Will’s feet had walked every inch of those bloodied staircases; he’d seen past the smoke in the mirrors that Hannibal had reflected back to others on his exterior. Inside, he was what the papers called a monster, and what other psychologists called a mystery. Will Graham was the only one who knew everything, and now he was gone.

His hand lingered on the doorknob, as if letting go of it would admit defeat. He didn’t want to admit defeat. He would have Will back soon. He would simply have to do it in the only way that he knew how. 

He would catch his prey. He would begin his chase once more. He would get this little rabbit out of the way so that Will could focus on the wolf that was in front of him, offering the stability that Will so desperately longed for, if you could call a cannibalistic serial killer constantly trying to avoid the FBI stability. 

Hannibal knew Will.

Will knew Hannibal.

It was only a matter of time until they were reunited and Hannibal would finally have him to himself. He would stop at almost nothing to make that his reality as soon as possible. Will was his. His and his alone. He would not allow someone else to even think for a moment that they could steal him.

Hannibal closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, retracted his hand from the doorknob, and then spun around on his heels. This would be quite the endeavor, but he would do it no matter the cost. His life would be spent in solitude and disinterest without Will.

He couldn't bear separation from Will. He needed him.


	13. Petty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will is called down to the BAU, and he is surprised with a visitor that he would much rather not see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates may be sparse, as I am busy with school, marching band, and music, but I'm trying my best! Being principal oboist means that I have to be extremely good at the material, and I don't want to disappoint!! Thank you for your patience!!

Will arrived at the BAU far too early for his tastes the morning following his falling-out with Hannibal. With each of his steps, he seemed to be weakened by the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears, the skull-splitting agony blooming beyond its initial bud between his eyes. He imagined vine-like tendrils worming their way through his brain, tearing his cerebrum apart and forcing its upper regions against his thin protective tissues and skull. Although, the headache wasn’t entirely unwelcome; it was a harsh, yet real reprieve from the throbbing, persistent, bittersweet agony that always accompanied thoughts of Hannibal. If he was correct about everything he knew about Hannibal, he wasn’t exactly taking it well either.

Although Will had escaped the firm grip of Hannibal’s predatory jaws, the venom was still surging through his veins with each heartbeat, the plague slowly consuming him until he would inevitably fall dead. Hannibal was the only one with the antidote to his own venom, but Will couldn’t thrive in his company. Perhaps a slow burn was more satisfying than a whirlwind romance that would have undoubtedly swept him away to the wind and carried him into the bleakest voids within Hannibal’s heart and mind. He couldn’t live with or without him. Either way, he had been doomed since he had indulged in the forbidden fruit.

His feet drummed against the tile beneath him languidly, almost as if he was scarcely alive. His complexion was wan and his eyes seemed devoid of any purpose or awareness. He was numb, as he often found himself during the calm after the storm. He would have to sort out the wreckage eventually, but now he was allowing himself to feel cleansed and penetrated by the florescent lights boring into his alabaster skin. 

Will glanced in the direction of Beverly as he passed her, waving sheepishly as he made his way towards Jack’s office. Today would be a day that he would have to trudge through. He had sufficient coping mechanisms to do so. Perhaps he would sweep up the shards of Hannibal’s broken teacup and throw them away instead of once more attempting to adhere them together. He had cut himself too many times trying to repair it before.

Everyone who saw Will that morning knew that it wasn’t simply his typical fatigue that was wearing him so thin. Although he wouldn’t admit it, he hadn’t slept much last night after returning home from Hannibal’s house. He’d only been able to think about the possible consequences. Who would pay the price for this? What Hell would consume them now?

Will’s feet came to a halt before Jack’s office. He closed his eyes, ghosting over them with his thumb and pointer finger as he exhaled. His lungs felt heavy, as if filled with smoke and soot. He felt polluted and wrong. He couldn’t walk into Jack’s office looking like he had just killed someone. His logical mind convinced him otherwise, but his instincts begged to differ. His hand reached for the doorknob.

It was cold - all too cold. Will shivered at the sensation before opening the door. 

“Hello, Will,” the voice stopped Will in his tracks. His entire body felt as if flaming needles were shooting through him. He swallowed hard, raising his eyes with trepidation. 

“Hello, Doctor Lecter,” Will answered, straightening his spine as if to show that he wasn’t simply going to forfeit his control to Hannibal. 

Hannibal offered a small smile in return, as if for once he was at a loss for what to do or say. As usual, he reveled in the sound of Will’s voice, saving it in his mind palace forever to echo throughout its walls like music. No music could ever please his ears like the sound of Will’s voice. However, this time was different. The familiar tendrils of agony gripped at his chest like vices. He didn’t even flinch, as if the agony was exquisite in its design. It did come from Will, after all. 

 

“Will, Doctor Lecter has brought to my attention that your mental condition is deteriorating, and he thinks that you are currently unfit for work.” Jack’s voice was stern, as if chastising Will for not bringing this to his attention.

White hot fury ignited in his chest, the flames slowly licking at his insides before his entire body seemed to be engulfed in the passionate, yet destructive flames. How DARE he? Simply because he didn’t get what he wanted out of him? Hannibal should have known that Will wanted to work no matter what. In most circumstances, this would be entirely out of character, but of course Hannibal would do this to spite him. 

Irately, he stood once more, his face contorted in anger, glaring at Hannibal, as if attempting to bore through his skull and pry open his mind. He already knew the true purpose for this, but he hadn’t thought that Hannibal would have the audacity to do something like this.

“I’m not seeing Doctor Lecter anymore, Jack. I’ve been looking for a different therapist,” Will seethed through gritted teeth, venom oozing from his voice. He was livid. 

Hannibal seemed to receive the underlying message, as a small sigh escaped his lips, almost weak and wispy. Jack didn’t notice it, but Will did. Satisfaction slightly doused the ravenous blaze of his anger. The voices in his head quieted to a dull roar and he directed his gaze to Hannibal’s eyes, which were somewhat clouded over as they usually were, but the hurt and betrayal still shined through for a transient moment, like sunshine that seemed to scorch Will’s skin. Will found his way back to his seat, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“What the hell is going on between you two, anyway?” Jack’s voice pierced their nonverbal communication, and both of their heads slowly turned to him, as if they were both two children caught doing something that they were explicitly advised not to do. In honesty, that’s what they were.

A silence hung in the air, tying of unsaid words around their throats as it suspended them. If they kicked the bucket, they would fall be the one to break the silence. Will glanced from Hannibal’s stoic expression to Jack’s perplexed one, Will felt as if he was caught at a fork in the road. He could follow the righteous path, or defend Hannibal, who he simultaneously loved and loathed. Perhaps neither path would be good for him. He glanced up at Jack, trying to muster up the words to answer Jack’s question, before Hannibal stole his opportunity.

“What do you think is going on, Jack?” Hannibal questioned, an amused smile on his face. He had reconstructed the façade, Will noticed. Just a moment ago, he had seen through one of the cracks that Will himself had created. 

Jack’s eyebrows furrowed further, deepening the lines on his face created by years of stress and sorrow. Will almost felt sympathy for the man, but he often resented him for how he used him as if he were a mere pawn. Although Hannibal had made him feel as if that was what Hannibal had wanted him for, to Hannibal, he was more than that; he was precious.

“Well, something must be going on. The way you act around each other has totally changed, and Will suddenly wants a new therapist. Something must have happened,” Jack insisted, his voice even firmer this time. Hannibal seemed unfazed.

The world spun around Will, slowly at first, but eventually picking up in speed until he felt as if he was on a merry-go-round instead of in an office. Sweat accumulated on his palms and on the hairs of his neck, making him feel hot and cold at the same time. Despite this, he met Jack’s eyes, refusing to waver in his gestures, knowing that Jack wouldn’t be convinced if he did. He opened his mouth to speak, looking over at Hannibal for a moment.

“We’ve had personal issues that I don’t believe we can resolve, is all. I’m not his patient anymore, so don’t come to him for information about me or my mental state. If you’d really feel comforted by it, you can find me another therapist,” Will responded, his skin feeling as if it was on fire, yet surrounded by ice at the same time. His stomach churned uncomfortably.

Hannibal glanced over at him, taking in his condition. Concern knitted in his brow, but Will knew that he was feeling as if he had won. Will wanted to just melt into his embrace, but he wouldn’t concede; this wasn’t the place or time to do so, and Hannibal wasn’t healthy for him.

“I could see that it’s personal issues. I’m not blind, Will. You both used to be so close,” Jack’s eyes seemed to bleed in Will’s vision, as did the room around him and Hannibal. 

It was if he were in a watercolor painting, the streaks running around him as if the artist had abandoned the painting and left it to its own devices. Perhaps that was what Will was doing to his love for Hannibal. It was a beautiful, twisted, impactful painting in which the edges were beginning to blur. He wanted to back away before his creation became ugly under his own artistic scrutiny.

In the room, two things were clear: him, and Hannibal. The world twisted and churned around him, but even in his state, he could see Hannibal and his glow. He was drawn to it as if he were a moth flitting towards streetlights in the summer – an unnatural, detrimental beacon in the night. 

He tore his eyes away from him, feeling his skin burn as he realized that he was becoming mesmerized once more. Dammit.

“Is that not explanation enough, Jack?” Will stuttered out, clearly flustered. His skin prickled with embarrassment and his muscles seemed to knot themselves uncomfortably in his stomach, heat accumulating there. His fingers ached to touch Hannibal, to have him reciprocate, to just be nearer to him.

Why was it so difficult to tear his eyes away? Why did his mind always revert back to this state? Why did Hannibal make him melt like butter simply by being near him?

Will felt even more nauseous as the blood seemed to completely abandon his head and flow south. Bile stung as it rose in his esophagus, quick and difficult to swallow back. The sting remained there for a moment, as if to remind him that his body wasn’t accepting his refusal to pounce on Hannibal right there. 

Will sighed, watching the colors continue to run in his vision. He attempted to dismiss the illusions, but his efforts bore no fruit; conditions only seemed to get worse, he even seemed to feel the colors drip onto his pale skin, dyeing him. He was perplexed, yet not surprised.

“Perhaps I should have questioned why you were so damn close in the first place. I thought your relationship was strictly professional, Will. The way you keep looking at him and the way he keeps looking at you says otherwise,” Jack insisted. Well, he was speaking the truth. It had taken him long enough to recognize what was conspiring beyond the workplace.

An inkling of a smile wormed its way into the corners of Hannibal’s lips, as if he was allowing Will to see that he indeed had won. Fury and arousal continued to weigh so aggravatingly in the pit of his gut. Hannibal was beautiful even when he was toying with Will. It was infuriating.

“Well, what are you smiling about, Doctor Lecter?” Jack demanded, seeming quite frustrated. This was becoming more and more ridiculous by the moment. Will felt as if he was in high school again.

Dammit Hannibal.

“Oh, nothing. I just find the implications quite humorous,” Hannibal lied – convincing, yet Will already knew the truth. 

“Look, if this is about something personal that happened between us, Hannibal, don’t bring work into it. It’s petty, and I’m quite unimpressed, to be frank. You could have done so much better.” Will wanted to end this as soon as possible. Perhaps just attacking the root of the problem would put this to rest before his eyes lingered on Hannibal’s body for too much longer than they should have.

“You look a little under the weather, Will. Would you like me to take you home?” Now, Hannibal was just taunting. Will stood, thankful that his arousal wasn’t noticeable at the moment.

“No, thanks for the offer, though. If anyone will be taking me home, it’ll be Beverly,” Will spat. 

That was a mistake. He knew it immediately.


	14. Danger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal is Hannibal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THAT FINALE THOOOOOUUUUGH

Even as Will walked around the streets beside Beverly, he knew that he shouldn’t have said those words to Hannibal. For one, it was a terribly way to prove his point, but most importantly, he was almost waving Beverly in Hannibal’s face, tempting him to take a bite out of her. What was wrong with him? Did he want her to die? 

“Will, I’m glad you stood up to him for once. He really shouldn’t have done that to you,” Beverly coaxed him, hoping to soothe him enough so that he would speak to her. Unfortunately, Will was too consumed by the fact that Hannibal was likely to consume her soon.

Their footsteps were slow and even against the pavement, percussive as a heartbeat. It served to guide Will’s own into a slower tempo. His skin felt cold, but his insides were writhing because he knew what he had done would have so many consequences. Hannibal’s love was akin to a monsoon in the way that it would destroy anything that stood in the way of its unforgiving wrath.

Will shuddered as the image of Beverly, cut up and placed upon Hannibal’s table, flitted before his eyelids. He wanted to just save her and run – salvage some of the wreckage. 

“It’s my fault in the first place, Bev. I shouldn’t have let it go on for so long. I should have known he was obsessed with me,” Will managed to choke out, as if he wasn’t prepared for this at all. He would have to have the conversation sooner or later.

Beverly shot him a sympathetic glance, but Will couldn’t accept it because he knew that he didn’t deserve it. He tempted the beast, and he didn’t take kindly to being tempted so rudely. He wouldn’t take the bait because it looked delicious; he would take the bait because Will had tried to make him seem undignified.

“I feel for ya, Will. I’d hate to be in that situation. It must be scary to know that. Do you still think he was the one stalking you?” Beverly asked. She was too kind. She didn’t even notice that he was watching. She was only digging herself deeper.

Will couldn’t see Hannibal, but he could feel his eyes traveling over his body, his ears drinking in every word they both said, and the thought cross his mind. How dare she?

Indeed, how dare she, in the presence of a perfect predator, try to act as if he was in the wrong? She was a smart, perceptive girl, but she knew nothing.  
“One of them.” It was almost as if his entire being was seized up, knowing that Hannibal could hear them. His eyes darted around, trying to find him. Where the hell was he? 

His hands shook and his heart, which had once slowed down, was now racing once more. Where the hell was he? Where could he have gone? It was implausible that he would have found a way to become invisible. Then again, Will wouldn’t have put it past Hannibal. He felt as if he was the prey, even if he would have been able to defend himself. He wasn’t defenseless, but he sure felt like it in this situation.

“There are multiple?” Beverly inquired, raising an eyebrow. She was adorable when she exaggerated her facial expressions like that. 

He felt Hannibal’s jealousy seethe through him as he looked away. He knew that he would have seen the way he looked at her and thought back to the time a few days ago where Will would have killed to have Hannibal look at him like that.

“Were. There were multiple,” he left that up to Beverly’s interpretation. She was smart enough to get it.

The recognition crossed her eyes, and Will heard the sound of running footsteps approaching them from behind. His strides were steady like his heartbeat. 

Bev’s eyes widened as she took off into a run. She assumed Will would do the same. Instead, Will just stood still, watching as Hannibal chased her. He didn’t know what to do. What could he have done?   
Hannibal met his eyes as he passed him, and a wry smile ghosted over his features for a moment before he returned his attention to the hunt. Will recognized the order of things. He knew he could not stop Hannibal if he tried. Nothing could stop him.

Will wanted to cry out, to turn away, but something forced his eyes to stay forward as he watched Hannibal chase Beverly, his strides gradually increasing in length until he finally caught up with her. Will noticed the cloth in Hannibal’s hand as he went towards her. 

Chloroform. He wasn’t going to kill her here. He was going to make a grander spectacle of it than this. Would he do it to Will too?

Will took a step backwards, watching as Hannibal wrapped a strong arm around her throat, bringing the other, which held the cloth, to her face. He took another step backwards as she slumped over in his arms.

“Will, you know what you’ve done,” Hannibal said simply, his eyes chastising Will for backing away. He tut-tutted, slinging an unconscious Beverly over his shoulders so nonchalantly. Will felt sick. He wanted to retch, but something kept his eyes glued to Hannibal. 

As Hannibal approached him, Will’s emotions were completely perplexed. What would he do? What could he do? He knew that he would have to watch it happen, regardless of what he wanted. His lower jaw trembled as his breathing quickened. If he ran, the consequences would be even harsher. He had to stand his ground.

“At least we’ll have another guest for dinner tonight, Will,” Hannibal said, stepping closer until he was only an arm’s length from Will. Any slim chance Will had for escaping was now completely eradicated. He didn’t know if he would make it out alive, but he did know that he would have to watch Beverly die before anything else happened. 

“Would you like to be awake or asleep?” Hannibal purred, seeming pleased that Will hadn’t darted off. What a brave boy.

“Awake, please,” Will croaked out, wanting to steal Beverly from his arms and run. He would surely die if he did that.

“Follow me, then. Don’t run; I’ll be able to catch you,” Hannibal’s commands may have sounded like a song to Will’s ears, but there was still fear fluttering hopelessly in his chest.

“Yes, Hannibal,” Will responded quietly, following Hannibal to his car for what may possibly be the very last time.


	15. Bittersweet Forgiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal forgives Will, but the damage has been done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for not updating. Things have been insane in my life in both positive and negative ways. Hopefully, I'll find the time to update after this. If not, you guys may have to wait until my next break! :/ Sorry!!

The scenery that passed by the car seemed to be detached from Will’s reality. It was as if his body had betrayed him, so his mind was simply disassociating. The sensations of the smooth, cool leather seat against Will’s fingers seemed so distant. He felt as if he was watching this all unfold at the back of the theater, awed by the ignorance of the characters being portrayed. Perhaps it was his mind’s last resort in the midst of the all-consuming turmoil that was his life, but perhaps it was also his own disbelief that he had even been foolish enough to dance with the devil.

He heard Beverly’s limp body shifting as the car hit uneven patches in the road. He felt the ghosts of an emotion, but it was so faint that he couldn’t quite identify it. He had accepted his fate. He would probably die tonight. He was no longer damp with sweat, a fact that made Hannibal both disappointed and interested. 

“Will,” Hannibal called out. He was uncertain if Will would even respond, considering that his eyes were glazed over. He almost looked relaxed.

Will almost felt startled, but the only thing that roused him to full consciousness was the reminder that he had an identity. He was the person that he was disdaining so much. He wasn’t just seeing this on a TV screen.

He gulped, preparing a response. The only feelings he knew at the moment were uncertainty and fatigue. He couldn’t even feel his heart race at the sound of Hannibal’s voice. 

“Yes?” Will’s voice sounded foreign. He gripped the seat just to determine if he even had control over himself anymore. Was he dreaming?

Concern prickled at Hannibal’s chest, but he had to remember what Will had done to him. He had to remember that he couldn’t have Will, and the best way to relate to him again would be to elevate him to the status of art. Nothing else would do him justice. It wasn’t an act of revenge; it was an act of love.

“I forgive you, Will.” 

Will’s chest suddenly felt as if it was imploding upon itself, as if Hannibal’s own fist had collided with his ribcage, knocking the air out of him. He was awake. He was alive.

He felt the flames of rage ignite his chest; he felt pangs of agony seize him with sharp claws; he felt an oppressive grip strong at his throat, as if trying to force the scream that he had been holding in back into his aching chest; he felt wetness accumulate in his eyes, threatening to spill over. He knew Hannibal had to have said it for a reason. He didn’t pardon many people of their transgressions. Perhaps it was a last ditch attempt to save them?

No, that wasn’t Hannibal. He knew just as well as Will did that the fires of their passion were hotter and more dangerous than the very flames of Hell. What could Will say in response? He was livid that Hannibal even thought that Will had been the perpetrator of a crime, when Hannibal had slaughtered many people and expected Will to just accept it. Were there words that Will could even offer? 

He just longed to lull back into the hazy area of his mind where he had once been. Typically, his mind was a horrifying nightmare to dwell in, but it was seeming more appealing than what was occurring in his reality at the moment.

“You’re going to kill both of us,” Will stated calmly. He chose not to address the apology. He only acknowledged it with a nod. 

“Not quite,” Hannibal responded, his voice scarcely above a whisper. 

Will knew that hope was inappropriate in this situation. Granted, Hannibal did love him, but Hannibal’s love wasn’t typically. It was toxic, and it would eventually end him. He’d sealed his fate. He should have known from the moment he discovered Hannibal was stalking him that this was a horrible idea. He should have listened to his instincts. Why couldn’t he have just said no? He was going to die now. He had accepted it, but there was also an inkling of a thought at the back of his head that reprimanded him for being so foolish and indulging in his mindless desires. 

He could say nothing. He could only listen to the sound of Beverly’s sleeping body moving around and classical music filtering from the radio. It would all be over in a matter of hours.


	16. Nearing the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will realizes that this is going to be the end.

For the remainder of the drive, both men were silent. However, as Will saw Hannibal’s house in the distance, he couldn’t control himself. He wouldn’t needlessly badger Hannibal about matters that he would likely not gain insight to. He’d likely be silenced anyway. Hannibal had a way of getting exactly what he wanted.

“I suppose I’d better give the Devil his due. You managed to get your revenge within the span of a day. Well done,” Will laughed, knowing it was pathetic. Fear would just make him appear even weaker than he was at the moment. He was too tired to play the victim.

“Revenge is what Lucifer would have wanted. It’s not what I want, Will,” Hannibal responded quietly. Indeed, he was furious at the thought of Will and Beverly being an item, but he couldn’t despise Will. Will was the only person that he was honored to have the chance of elevating to art. He wasn’t only doing Will a service; he was doing himself a service as well.

Will felt indignation nip at the back of his tongue, but he wouldn’t voice it. Although Hannibal’s vague, possibly untrue statements gnawed at him, he knew he was trapped. He was to take orders from Hannibal now. Whatever they may be, he had to simply listen and obey. Perhaps he would be more upset and willing to struggle if he wasn’t exhausted and suspended in a state of disbelief. 

Hannibal gave Will a once over, his eyes boring into Will as if expecting a response, but to his frustration his curiosity was still left ravenous. 

“Stand up and walk over to the door. Wait for me,” Hannibal commanded. 

Will’s legs ached for a run, and his heart pounded as if expecting him to take off, but his instincts were only hindering him. If he ran, he would die immediately. Either way, he knew he was going to die. He had already made his decision. He would see what Hannibal had planned for him, which was only prolonged death.

So, in accordance to Hannibal’s orders, he stood, the brisk air nipping at his face as he did so, and walked over to the door. He hardly drank in his surroundings. He’d been here so frequently that he hadn’t the need. 

As Hannibal walked over, hoisting Beverly over his shoulder, Will couldn’t help but notice how attractive he was. He was cursed. From the moment he’d indulged in his feelings, he’d gotten himself stuck. Damn Hannibal. Damn his grace. Damn himself, too. Damn his rash decisions fueled by primal emotions that held no logic. 

Hannibal’s hands moved so quickly on the lock that Will scarcely had the time to mentally register that he’d even unlocked it. Those skilled hands had once caressed him would likely be his untimely doom. It was unfortunate. Will had loved him, even in the midst of all of the carnage he knew that Hannibal had caused. Will still did love him even as the flames of Hannibal’s Hell threatened to engulf him. He only could hope for a better fate for Beverly.

He was assaulted with so many memories at once – eating dinner with Hannibal, laughing with Hannibal, crying to Hannibal, needing Hannibal, wanting Hannibal, fearing Hannibal. The pristine scent of his home used to serve as a comfort, but now he only felt as if bugs were swarming beneath his skin. He saw Hannibal’s figure shift into that of the wendigo.

The end was nigh, and there was naught to be done about it. 

“Sit,” the wendigo said. His voice vaguely sounded like Hannibal’s, but it sounded so very distant as if it were echoing in the blankest space in his mind.

Will obeyed, loping into the kitchen and sitting on the chair. He felt tendrils reach around him, securing him to the chair with their stifling grip, almost stunting his breathing. His chest felt like it was on fire, and he struggled, his eyes darting around as if writhing for freedom themselves. His arteries and veins bulged with effort, but to no avail. He was bound.

He panted, glancing over to Beverly, whose blanket of sleep was protecting her from seeing the inevitability of doom. The wendigo loomed over her, and Will swore he saw a tongue snake out to gloss over glistening fangs. His heart stopped. No. Not Beverly. She didn’t deserve it.

His vision blurred and the bugs swarming beneath his skin gnawed their way through pores in his face. Screaming in agony, he writhed until the chair he was in plummeted to the floor, crashing against the wood beneath him. 

“I thought you said you wanted to be conscious, Will. You’re going to go unconscious at this rate,” Hannibal said warningly. 

The haze surrounding Will’s mind cleared only ever so slightly, and he became uncomfortably aware of the sweat cascading down his clammy face. His heart thudded frenetically against his ribs, the swoosh of his blood maddeningly loud in his ears. He squirmed on the ground, his eyes focusing on the form of Hannibal, who appeared to be a divine figure amongst the wreckage that his mind conjured. Divine, yet deadly, he reminded himself.

He couldn’t bring himself to request a helping hand. After all, he wasn’t quite sure about how Hannibal was going to go about this murder. He hadn’t determined what he was doing here, or the reasoning behind Hannibal’s actions. He was perplexed. His mind was so clouded by panic that he found his empathy almost blinded. He felt disabled as if he had lost the ability to walk or see. His empathy had been so strong for such a long period of time now.

Hannibal carried Beverly and set her into a chair opposite where Will’s once was as if he intended to have them eating dinner. However, Will knew that Hannibal’s intentions were not simply a cordial chat over dinner; it never was that simple. He always had an ulterior motive of some sort, malicious or otherwise. It was how he was.

Hannibal’s hands were steady as he bound Beverly to the chair, his face even more eerily stoic. A shudder began at the middle of Will’s spine, electrifying and cold, and seized his entire body as he watched Hannibal’s fingers move so skillfully. Those hands once brought him pleasure. Now, they would bring him and Beverly a great deal of pain. Hannibal wouldn’t let them go easily.

“We’ll be having lamb Osso Bucco. I hope that’s to your liking,” Hannibal chirped once he had finished.

It was both infuriating and terrifying how Hannibal could so gracefully shift gears from tying someone up to discussing dinner plans. 

“It’s not as if I have a choice in the matter anyway, Hannibal,” Will spat, his skull throbbing from the residual pain of the impact of his fall. He knew this comment would agitate Hannibal, but he was under a tidal wave of emotions at the moment that was affecting his better judgement. Aside from that, he knew he was going to die either way.

Hannibal merely smiled and walked over to Will, his steps steadier than heartbeats, and then adjusted his chair so that he was seated directly across from Beverly. Will swallowed hard, his heart fluttering in his chest from his closeness to Hannibal and from his rising sense of panic. It was difficult for a coherent thought to cross his mind.

“Indeed, you don’t, however, I’d like to think you enjoy it,” Hannibal chuckled into his ear huskily. Will felt uncomfortably warm.

As Will watched Hannibal make his way into the kitchen and gather meat, he felt somewhat relieved that they weren’t going to eat Beverly yet. Although he knew it was simply prolonging the inevitable, the thought of Hannibal forcing him to eat Beverly made his stomach churn in ways that it never had before.

Perhaps Hannibal would respect him in that way and know that eating Beverly would make him uncomfortable. Perhaps he would make Will eat Beverly for the sole reason that he deserved discomfort. Either way, Will knew that something horrible was going to happen. Death had its eyes set on him tonight, and he knew in some way or another, he would be watching Beverly die. 

The worst part of it all was that Will knew that Hannibal was well-aware of all of these things. His keen sense of smell would have detected his sweat and fear. Yet, Hannibal feigned ignorance for an elaborate dinner plan. It would likely be Will’s last. How unfortunate that his last dinner would be one in which Hannibal Lecter would be forcefully feeding him lamb. 

“Perhaps I will,” Will sighed, feeling the weight of dread accumulate in his gut. 

His gaze rested on the table, which Hannibal hadn’t set yet. He must have decided to wait until the lamb would be left to cook on its own. He had picked an easier dish for a reason; there would be other things occupying his time. A pang of terror washed over Will, and his hands quivered.

One of them was going to die first. That’s why he hadn’t set the table.

There was nothing that he could do.


End file.
